Mortis
by foreversnevers
Summary: I finally get it, why storms are named after people. People and storms . . . they're both meant to cause a wreckage.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter one

It was late October of 1876 when I first started coughing blood. My father immediately sent for the town doctor, said doctor arriving in a frenzy a few hours later.

I never knew the doctors' name. It was funny. The man who made the greatest impact on my life—I had never asked for his name.

I was on bed rest while everyone—the maids and my parents—gathered around me. I knew they were trying to be strong, to show me it would all be okay—but I could see the fear in their eyes . . . fear for _me._

No one talked for a long time until finally—

"Well?" my mother asked impatiently. "What's wrong with her?"

"The White Plague," the doctor had said.

My mother gasped, her hand raising to cover her mouth. My father was much more composed than the former, but there was a deep sense of pain in his voice as he asked, "How long does she have?"

The doctor hesitated before replying. I think he might have been nervous. Then he said, "Six months at the most."

My mother began to sob and had to be removed from the room. My father followed soon after, his eyes moist.

The maids changed the cloth that was on my head, straightened out my sheets, and then left.

Very soon, the doctor was the only one that had stayed.

For a few moments we stared at each other, both silent. I could obviously see he felt sorry for me. There was so much pity in his eyes. His mouth was half open, half closed like he was unsure of what to say.

"Go on then," I urged. "Say what you need to."

He grimaced, "I don't think—"

I joked, "I don't have forever. Just spit it out."

The doctor smiled thinly at me. "Well . . . you are aware that you're highly contagious, yes?" I nodded. "And you are aware of what The White Plague is?" I nodded again. "Then you should know that it's going to be a very lonely six months."

"Are you saying I'm going to die alone? Won't you be here?" My brow wrinkled as I reminded him, "You are the doctor, after all."

He sighed, "I'm going to send for my colleague to aid you—well, actually, he's more of a good friend. He will take good care of you and you probably won't get him sick. He has a very strong immune system."

The doctor sounded jealous.

"So I have six months?" I asked.

The doctor had that look of pity in his eyes again. "Yes."

I swallowed thickly, "Will it hurt?"

He looked confused. "Hmm?"

"Death. Will death hurt?"

The doctor looked thoughtful. "I'm not sure. I've never died before," he hesitated, "Although, I like to think it's like going to sleep."

"Yes," I agreed heartily. "That's a nice way to think of it."

"You're taking this awfully well," the doctor accused. "You surprise me."

I smiled, though I was quite sure it didn't reach my eyes. "I tend to have that effect on people."

The doctor nodded and then looked over at the grandfather clock by the doorway. "Oh," he said. "It's past midnight!"

He stood up much too quickly and backed away from me, almost like he was afraid of me or something. "I'm going to leave now. My colleague will arrive in a few days' time and I will make sure your parents are ready for his arrival."

"Alright," I said.

The doctor stared at me for a few seconds, looking very solemn. "Goodbye, Addison."

"Goodbye, Doctor."

It felt like a true goodbye, almost as if I'd never see him again.

* * *

Death didn't bother me—not one bit, in fact. It certainly seemed nicer than living here, Earthbound. Here in the physical realm there was nothing but misery. There was death and poverty and lying and stealing and cheating. Why . . . death seemed better than being alive!

Going to Heaven and being able to see my loved ones again . . . Would that really be such a crime?

There was another reason I was so open to death. It's a secret. I've never told anyone before.

I see dead people.

Not all of them and I don't get to choose who I see or when it happens—it just happens. Sometimes I can't even tell the dead apart from the living. They look the same, they act the same, and they talk the same. What's the difference?

One time when I was younger I saw a little boy playing in the grass in front of the bakery.

"Hello," I'd said.

The boy ignored me and continued playing with a small plastic dog.

"Excuse me!" I was shocked by the boys' manners. "I said hello! Don't ignore me!"

The boy turned around, his eyes wide. "Are you talking to me?"

I nodded quickly, my eyes widening, too. I was a little embarrassed about my tone with him.

His eyes narrowed. "What are you—some kind of witch?"

I shook my head faster than I'd nodded it. "Y-you think I do witchcraft? Why would you think that?"

Now he looked embarrassed. "Well . . . how else would you be able to see me?"

"What are you talking about?" I asked. "I have one sets of working eyes, how would I _not_ be able to see you?"

The boy opened his mouth to say something when he saw something behind me that scared him. I could tell by how his eyes and mouth widened together.

Before I could ask him what was wrong he had disappeared!  
Disappeared! Right in front of me! No wonder he'd asked if I could see him. Obviously something was wrong with my eyes.

I rubbed my eyes, just to double check the boy wasn't in front of me anymore. Nope! He was gone.

"Addison . . ." someone behind me asked.

I whirled around, agape. "Y-yes?"

There stood the baker who looked a little horrified. "Who were you just talking to?"

I bit my lip, not sure how to reply. I wasn't sure if the baker would understand if I told him my eyes weren't working right and a little boy had disappeared in front of me.

"Well," I mumbled. "There was a little boy and . . ."

I trailed off as I stared at the expression on his face. He looked almost like he pitied me, but looked more like he was afraid either for me or of me.

"What little boy?" the baker asked. "There's no one there."

In that moment I realized that little boy hadn't disappeared—he hadn't been there from the beginning.

For a few months I stopped talking to people, not knowing if they'd disappear on me again. It was a scary way to live. I was too young to understand and even if I was old enough, I wasn't sure I_ wanted_ to understand my gift.

But now that I was old enough and dying, I understood it.

I understood death.

And I was ready for it.

* * *

**Authors Note**

**So, there's going to be around two more chapters of Addison's human life before it gets interesting. I'm sorry that this chapter is really short..it kind of feels like a prologue almost. I promise once the story gets going the chapters will be longer.**

**R&R**

**Lauren**


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter two

I was very lonely. I knew I coughed all of the time and that I was quite contagious . . . but I just wanted someone to talk to. I yearned for company. My dead friends had turned their back on me just as the living had.

The maids—during one of their brief visits—informed me the new doctor was coming today.

"I know you're lonely," one of the maids, Anne, said. "But the new doctor will keep you company."

I had nodded slightly, almost aggravated with Anne by what she'd said. I knew it was irrational to feel that way, but I just was.

All anyone ever told me was how the new doctor would keep me company—while they themselves couldn't stand to be around me! For God's sake, I hadn't seen my own mother in days!

Not seeing any of my loved ones for this long hurt more than my chest. It felt worse than waking up in the middle of the night, sweating, but feeling like an ice cube.

Why did this have to happen to me?

What did I ever even do to deserve this? I went to church. I prayed every single night. I gave back to the misfortunates. I was kind to the living and even kinder to the dead.

So why?

I had come up with the idea that God wants me up there with him in Heaven. I asked my mother once why God kills people and she said,

"I suppose God picks the prettiest flowers from the garden to stay with him. He takes those, because he misses them and fares that their families have had enough time with them and that it's his turn."

I often wondered what God was like.

The day I died would I be wearing my church dress? Would God care what I wore? What if he didn't want me?

I wondered what he looked like.

Is it true he has a beard? Is God even a male?

I wondered what he would say to me.

"I've waited a long time for you, Addison."

"You'll be happy here."

"Welcome to your new home."

What if I didn't make it to Heaven? What if the Devil was there to meet me instead of God almighty?

I shivered.

I'd never admit it, but I was looking forward to meeting the new doctor. If he was as half as good as everyone was saying he was, I might have a pleasant few months before I died.

I did still have this irrational fear of getting the new doctor sick and killing him. I couldn't live with that burden for the next few months. For . . . then I really would deserve death.

I hoped he arrived soon before I died of a broken heart. You see, I always loved to converse with people. I was . . . charismatic in many ways. So being trapped in my room with no one to talk to was like my own personal hell.

Anne would bring me books, but they were quite drab. I had always craved exciting books for a contrast to my own dull life. It seemed almost poetic that now I'd gotten what I'd always wanted: excitement, but now that I had it, all that I wanted was my old life back.

Sometimes I wondered how I'd gotten The White Plague in the first place. Was it from the old woman who sat in front of me in church, sneezing? Or was it my friend, Mary, who just the other day couldn't stop coughing?

When I'd asked my friend Mary why she was coughing, she'd said there was allot of dust in the air and I believed her.

Now I was more than a little skeptical of her honesty.

How could someone who _knew_ they were sick walk and talk around town like they _weren't_, therefore infecting _others_?

I mean, I get it.

You're lonely, you want to go outside and mingle. But if you knew you were highly contagious . . . why risk it?

Suddenly there were three quick knocks on my bedroom door, "Miss Addison, Doctor Carlisle is here."

I stood up from my seat by the window and quietly walked over to my door and opened it.

I was unsurprised to see Anne there, covering her mouth with a rag and a tall, lean man behind her.

There was an awkward pause and then Anne said, "Well, I have to go prepare dinner so I'll leave you two to it."

Anne seemed to run more so than walk away from us—me. It was okay. I knew she was terrified of getting my illness.

I looked back at the man—the new doctor— in front of me and I swear I almost passed out.

Putting it simply—he was gorgeous. Doctor Carlisle was honest to God the most handsome man I'd ever seen. His thick blonde hair was smoothed back naturally and looked quite spectacular. And his skin . . . it was the lightest pale—almost like snow. But Doctor Carlisle's eyes were the strangest thing of all.

Yellow.

Not yellow like my eyes get sometimes when I have a high fever, but of the golden color of my father's wedding band.

Doctor Carlisle smiled and I almost fainted at how white his teeth were. He must have the highest dental care. "Hello," he said and extended his hand out to me. "My name is Carlisle."

It took me a moment to realize he wanted to shake hands. I hesitated, "Are you sure you want to touch me?"

He chuckled quietly. "You do know that Consumption—"

"Consumption?" I inquired. "Isn't it known as The White Plague?"

"Yes," he said. "But a . . . perhaps more _accurate_ term would be Consumption. And as I was saying—you know Consumption does not transfer from touch, right? It transfers from the air."

Convinced enough I wouldn't give him my illness from touching him, I shook his strong hand. "Right . . . so, uh, how come you aren't going to get sick from me?"

Carlisle laughed again, "How about we start with your name?"

"Oh!" I said, "Addison."

"Very beautiful," Carlisle commented as he walked further into my room, looking around.

"Well?" I demanded.

Carlisle turned around with his brow raised in question.

"How come you aren't going to get sick from me?" I repeated, near exasperation.

"I don't know what to tell you, Miss Addison—I just have never gotten sick. My immune system excels in all areas." Carlisle looked almost embarrassed by all of the attention I was giving him.

"How is that possible?" I whispered, envious.

If I had his immune system, I wouldn't be sick in the first place. Why did _he_ get to have a perfect immune system while I was stuck—dying from Consumption or whichever name God preferred the disease to have—?

Carlisle set his jaw firmly. "I believe it was God's gift to me. I was given with this wonderful immune system so I could help others like yourself."

I shook my head. "I cannot be helped."

"But others can."

I suppose it did make sense in a way. God had given this benevolent doctor the gift to help others without him himself getting sick. It really was quite the miracle.

"Alright," I said. "I believe you. So why are you here?"

His forehead wrinkled. "What do you mean? I'm here to help you for a few months until you . . ." Carlisle smiled sadly, "Pass."

"Yes," I agreed. "I know. But wouldn't a nurse do what you're doing? Why is a doctor doing a nurses' job?"

"Well," Carlisle started, "I decided to come because I cannot get sick from you and what you're doing is courageous."

"Hmm?" I was confused. "What is it I'm doing that's courageous?"

Carlisle's eyes filled with wonder. "You aren't going to leave your room for as long as you're sick. You don't want to infect anyone."

I scoffed. "That's _hardly_ what I'd consider courageous."

"Then you must have high standards," Carlisle said.

"Something like that," I admitted with a smile.

"So, let's have a look at you," Carlisle mumbled to himself. A little louder he said, "Please, take a seat on the bed. I need to get my utensils out of my bag."

I obeyed, but not before asking nervously, "Utensils?"

He laughed, "Nothing to worry about! It shouldn't be painful."

Yes, _shouldn't_—but knowing my luck it would probably hurt allot more than it is supposed to.

Carlisle came close to me and held out a worn, bloody rag. "Cough into this," he instructed.

"What?" I was baffled.

"Your blood will give me an estimate of how long you have left," Carlisle told me.

"You can tell how long I'll live by my blood?" I was surprised. He really was a good doctor.

"Yes. Now, please cough into the cloth."

It was weird—_wanting_ to cough. It was even weirder that someone was watching me do it.

I did as he instructed anyway, curious to know how long I had.

My coughs sounded God awful. It literally sounded like someone was choking on a piece of meat. Carlisle was sympathetic and didn't comment on it, though. For a few minutes, I did nothing but cough up this strange brown liquid, but then—finally—there was a steady clump of blood that I held out to Carlisle sheepishly.

"Hmm," he said quietly. "Oh, no, this is not good."

"What?" I asked anxiously.

"Your blood is so thin. It isn't clotting at all."

"And?" I pressed. "What does that mean?"

"It means," his voice was near silent—I struggled to hear him, "That you have around two months."

"To live?" I shrieked. That was so much shorter than I had expected. Worse case I was ready to brace myself for four months, but I had thought I would have at least another year.

"Yes." Carlisle's voice was grave. "I'm so very sorry."

"Oh my . . ." I trailed off sadly, laying back onto my bed. Near tears, I told Carlisle, "I'm only fifteen. I was going to turn sixteen in April," I nearly lost my breath, "I was so excited."

"I'm sorry," Carlisle repeated.

"It just isn't fair!" I told him.

"I know."

A thought occurred to me, "Are you going to tell my parents about this new installment?"

Carlisle nodded. "They have a right to know."

"Oh! This is going to absolutely crush my mother!" I exclaimed. "I wish it didn't have to be this way."

"Me, too," Carlisle agreed and it looked like he really meant it.

"Thank you for telling me, though. I would rather know than be left wondering." I hesitated. "Normally doctors don't tell the patient of the condition first."

Carlisle almost laughed, but then composed himself. "Well," he said, "I am not a normal doctor."

I stared at him and then murmured, "I believe you."

* * *

I watched from my windowsill as the days grew shorter and snow first fell. I watched—longingly—as my friends would laugh and play outside in the snow. Without me.

I wasn't as lonely as before, I had Carlisle now. Sometimes he would have to leave to help someone in town, though. When he had to leave, it was hard on me. Carlisle was easy to talk to, I felt like I had known him my entire life.

When Carlisle was gone, I'd talk to his father. Carlisle's father refused to tell me anything about Carlisle, but he just loved to talk about everyone else!

"Do you know what's going on between your maid, Anne, and that stable boy across the lane?" he would gossip.

"No, what?"

"Now, they hardly know each other and already that boy is declaring love for her! She is carrying his love child! And they aren't even married! Can you believe the nerve that girl must have, walking around like she owns the place as she commits sins?" he sounded disgusted.

Carlisle's father—or, as he told me to call him, Pastor Cullen—wasn't there all of the time, though.

Sometimes it was kind of lonely.

So when Carlisle would come back we would do all sorts of things together. On clear nights we would sit by my window and he would teach me all of the constellations. When I'd learned all of the stars and their patterns we started to name the oddball stars.

"I wish I could see them up close," I had said in awe.

"They're much too bright," Carlisle chuckled. "Your skin would melt off your face."

"I know," I smiled. "But it would be worth it, they are too pretty to be isolated. I can tell they are lonely. Like me."

He could only nod in agreement, not sure how to reply to what I had said.

One time Carlisle had tried to teach me how to speak French, but I gave that up quite quickly. After all, what would be the point? I was never going to make it to Paris anyway.

Most of the time Carlisle and I just talked, though.

We talked and talked about nothing and everything at the same time. By that point, I knew Carlisle was a reserved person—so I also knew he only talked so much with the intent of distracting me from the matter at hand—death.

We never talked about how I was going to die. How my days only got shortened. Our conversations were almost always happy.

At the moment Carlisle was sitting by my bed reading a book. I wanted to ask him something, but he looked like he was thoroughly enjoying his book.

I bit my lip, about to interrupt his concentration when I erupted into a coughing fit.

Carlisle jumped up and was by my side quicker than I could process. "Addison!" he exclaimed.

"Sorry," I whispered, wiping a few stray drops of blood from the edge of my mouth.

He smiled goodheartedly, "Don't apologize for something you cannot control." It was almost a scold.

Carlisle turned away and was about to go back to his book when I figured now was as good a time as ever to ask.

"Have you ever been to Europe?" I blurted.

Carlisle turned on his heel and was again by my bedside. His eyes were wide as he inquired, "Why, yes . . . I have." He hesitated, his eyes narrowing. Almost like he was suspicious, "Why do you ask?"

I smiled, even though I wasn't the slightest bit happy. "I always wanted to go to Europe. Florence, London, Paris, Rome! The most beautiful cities in all of the world!" I hardly noticed I was crying. "And now I'll never get to see them."

"I'm sorry . . . I didn't realize—"

"No, it's okay!" I already felt shameful for my tears. "Honest! It is just that you asked why I was wondering and I wanted to know what it was like there. Since I'll never get to see it in person." Another involuntary tear slowly trickled down my face.

A cold hand touched my shoulder and shook it slightly. "Hey," Carlisle's voice was softer than silk as he tried to soothe me. "Don't cry," he pleaded, "It just makes this so much harder."

I let out a watery laugh. "I know."

Carlisle grinned broadly at me when he saw I was no longer crying. "That's the spirit! Now, would you like to hear about Europe? You see, I'm _quite_ the traveler. A man of many faces—or trades is perhaps a more biblical term. I was born in London and you would not believe the churches there. It truly is from another world like no other . . . ."

* * *

I could literally feel myself getting weaker. It was odd. I would have some good days where I could walk around my room and sometimes even dance. But then there were the bad days—and God were they awful—where it was a struggle to even raise my head to rest on my pillow.

Carlisle was there for every moment.

He'd walk with me when I was up to it and teach me these incredible dances when he could and hold my hand as I tried to raise my head to eat.

I knew it was extremely difficult for him to see me like this, but it _was_ his job to watch me die.

I guess somewhere along the way he got attached to me.

I, too, had gotten attached.

* * *

**Authors note**

**So, here Addison meets Carlisle!**

**Next chapter is the last human chapter.**

**Lauren**


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter three

"Carlisle?" I asked one day.

"Yes, Addison?" Carlisle marked his page on his book and set it on my side table, giving me his undivided attention.

I smiled thinly at the gesture and then looked up to meet Carlisle's odd colored eyes. Over the past few weeks I had come up with different kinds of comparisons for his strange golden yellow eyes.

Sunflower pedals.

The sun.

Stars.

My church dress.

The box my mother used to keep our best chocolates in.

I knew I had come up with allot more comparisons than that, but my with my head spinning in circles all of the time it was hard to remember the small things that used to mean the world to me.

I hated this disease.

"I was wondering if you could do something for me." I shivered as my forehead reacted to the cold air in my room. Ever since October, it had always been cold in my room. It was almost as if God was preparing my body for the cold of death.

"Of course," Carlisle agreed easily. "What is it, may I ask?"

I nodded, feeling elated that he would help me. "Since I'm not allowed to see my parents and I'm going to die soon . . . I was wondering if you would give them both a letter I wrote to them."

Carlisle looked agape for a few seconds as he digested my ideology full force. "A last letter," he mumbled. "Hmm . . . yes, I suppose I could do that for you, Addison."

"Great!" I couldn't help but beam brighter than the stars as I pointed to my desk. "The letters are in the top drawer on the left. It should be open."

I watched as Carlisle opened the desk drawer and pulled out two letters—one for my parents and one for him.

Carlisle's brow furrowed as he noticed his name on top of the second envelope. "You wrote me a letter?"

"Yes," I said. "It is mighty pathetic, but . . . you are probably the closest thing I have had to a friend."

"It isn't pathetic," Carlisle assured me quickly. "I'm just surprised."

"Don't you worry," I told him as I pointed to the letter. "Not even death will keep me from bothering you."

"That's a good thing," Carlisle admitted. "I sure am going to miss your company, Addison."

"The feeling is mutual."

* * *

"Oh, Addison," Carlisle looked near miserable. "You truly are knocking on death's door."

I laughed sourly. "I never understood that expression," I admitted. "I have always felt that it should be Death's the one knocking on_ my _door."

"Well, it doesn't matter how the expression goes. The meaning is still the same." Carlisle sighed.

We sat for a few minutes in silence, the only sound was the crackling of the fire desperately trying to fight the cold air in my room.

"I have felt weaker today than I have in all of these months," I said. "Something feels different today."

Carlisle said nothing.

Finally, I asked the question I had been dreading since this morning, "Am I going to die?"

Carlisle's voice was bitter, "Would you like for me to lie?"

"No." Somehow my voice was strong.

Carlisle's eyes were tortured as he stared at me. "Yes, you will most likely die in your sleep tonight."

"Most likely?" I asked hopefully.

I wanted to know if there was a chance I might survive the night.

"No . . ." his voice was impossibly sadder than before. "Most definitely."

I was quiet then.

I didn't know what to say. What could you say in this kind of a situation?

"What if I don't go to sleep?" I whispered.

Carlisle's eyes no longer looked sad, but full of a bleak malice as he snapped, "Don't you dare try to cheat death, Addison."

To which I replied, "You sound almost as if you have cheated death yourself once or twice!"

"Well," he grumbled, "Perhaps I have."

I nodded, like he was confirming my suspicious—although I hadn't had any until now.

Carlisle lazily turned his head to the same grandfather clock my old doctor had checked the time on two months ago. "It's eleven o'clock," Carlisle only sounded tired now. "It's time to go to bed."

"But I don't want to die!" I protested.

"Don't worry about it," he said. "Just fall asleep and you'll wake in a much better place."

Pastor Cullen—Carlisle's father—suddenly appeared. "Don't believe a word he says," Pastor Cullen told me. "It is most certainly not all rainbows and butterflies over here on this side. It's quite similar to your world, in fact."

I looked between the two Cullen's—one dead and one alive—as I weighed the pros and cons of accepting death.

My chest wouldn't hurt anymore if I died. Pro.

I would miss my mother and father. Con.

I could see my grandmother again. Pro.

I would never get to see Europe. Con.

The list was endless.

But ultimately, I had to ask myself—does God truly intend for me to live? He gave me this sickness. He wants for me to die. I should respect his wishes and let go.

That's why I said, "Okay, Doctor Carlisle. I will go to bed."

Carlisle stared at me for a few seconds, wondering if I was telling the truth, before he nodded to himself. He turned his back to me and blew out a few candles, walking quickly to my bedroom door. Carlisle was about to leave when I gasped,

"Wait!"

He did.

I was going to finish my sentence, but then I kept coughing and coughing—blood coming out all over my grandmother's quilt.

Carlisle waited.

When I finally stopped coughing I hesitated, having to catch my breath. After realizing it was okay for me to speak— I smiled, my teeth probably covered in blood.

"You know . . ." I said. "It really was nice to have met you."

I couldn't see much through the dark, but I think I saw Carlisle's white teeth glimmer—he must have been smiling, too.

"Yes," he agreed. "It was nice to have met you, too."

Then he was gone.

The door closed lightly, but it felt like a slam in my heart.

Pastor Cullen stared after his son for a few seconds and then turned around to face me.

"There he goes," Pastor Cullen sighed.

I managed to nod.

Pastor Cullen looked at me expectantly.

"What?" I asked, confused.

"Well, aren't you going to sleep?" he questioned.

"I really am trying to," I said. "But I think I forget how. I am so very nervous."

Pastor Cullen nodded understandingly. "Would you like for me to guide you through it?"

My eyes moistened and my voice actually cracked with emotion as I replied, "That would be great. Thank you."

"Alright," Pastor Cullen said. "The very first thing you do is get under the covers, which I see you have already done."

I nodded, smiling slightly.

"Next, you lean your head back."

I leaned my head back, feeling the softness of my pillow.

"And now you close your eyes."

I took a deep breath.

And then I closed my eyes.

* * *

**Authors note**

**Short chapter...sorry!**

**Kind of a sad one, too.**

**Next chapter should be a long one, though!**

**-Lauren**


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter four

I think I went to Hell.

I couldn't see anything and the only thing I could hear were my own screams echoing endlessly in my ears.

There was no adjective to describe the eternal agony I had to endure. I tried to form words sometimes— when the pain wasn't as ripe—but I wasn't sure if anything I'd cried out was comprehensible.

Once, I was nearly a hundred percent sure, I'd managed to scream, "Help! Help me!"

After that, though, I couldn't manage anything.

It hurt the most in my shoulder, though I couldn't fathom why. I had started to come up with the idea that someone—something was slashing me with a knife, but then the pain was too intense to keep the thought going.

The searing agony never ceased. I kept waiting for it to stop, but it _never did_.

I wanted to know why I had been sent to Hell. I wanted to know how long it was going to hurt. I demanded to know. My screaming didn't let up long enough for me to ask a question, though.

After forever the pain slowly started receding from every part of my body until it only resided in my neck and shoulder.

I still couldn't see anything, but now I could hear all sorts of things besides my screaming.

I could hear the wind howling. I heard light breathing beside my head. And the strangest thing of all . . . I heard a little drum pounding, although I think it could have been a heartbeat. I didn't think it was possible for hearts to beat as fast as this one was, though.

To try to get past the pain I focused on the heartbeat. It was a nice distraction—peaceful almost. Da-dum da-dum da-dum da-dum da-dum da-dum.

There were seven hundred and ninety heartbeats before the pain in my shoulder stopped. Even though the pain in my shoulder had dissolved, it only intensified the itch in my throat—causing me to cry out.

I desperately tried to focus on the heartbeat to ignore the burning feeling. To my complete and utter shock, the heartbeat seemed to be picking up . . . impossibly faster than before!

Da-dum da-dum da-dum da-dum da-dum da-dum.

There were one thousand eight hundred and sixty three more heartbeats until it—the heartbeats—suddenly stopped. I was thrown into a frenzy. Now there was nothing to take my mind off of the burning!

It hurt so much! Why did it have to sting so badly? What had I done to deserve this torment? Why couldn't someone—anyone make it stop?

It doesn't hurt as much as the first pain, I told myself. Now I could think whereas before I couldn't.

And then I got a strange feeling.

The only analogy I could come up with to describe the feeling was to compare it to waking up. After a long sleep everyone does eventually wake up. When you're well rested, though, you are most certainly not tired. It's near impossible to fall back asleep.

Right now it felt like I had had a well-rested sleep and was trying to go back to bed. I had the oddest sensation that I was almost . . . _faking_ sleeping.

You don't have to close your eyes anymore, I realized. I can open them and see! See . . . did I want to see? After all, I _was_ in Hell. Did I really want to see the wretched demons that were going to torture me? Did I want to see their faces? Those who would bring the agony back?

Could I live with that?

After a few moments of consideration my eyes started to feel uncomfortable for being shut for so long. So I did the natural thing . . .

I opened them.

See . . . yes, see I did!

I could see everything!

I could see the dust in the air and how there was a near microscopic chip in an oak desk. I could see the stitches made to create the quilt that was draped around me. I could see that there were twenty-five leaves on the potted plant that sat on the forespoken desk.

I could see the flaw in every object of the room . . . but to me the flaws made the object that much more beautiful.

It was a glorious feeling.

All of a sudden I heard a throat being cleared. How could I have not realized there had been someone sitting beside me? Before I had heard a person breathing, but I had assumed that was myself.

But it was not me.

It was the demon.

I jumped up and pinned the demon to the wall, snarling in his face. I was very surprised by my brute strength in that moment. I knew that I had not been strong before the pain started—although it was hard to remember . . .

I lifted the demon a few feet off the ground and my hands clenched deeply into the demon's shoulder.

I was about to pull the demon's head off before I hesitated.

Taking my hesitance as an advantage over me, the demon slipped out from under me, grabbed my back, and forced me against the wall.

The plaster of the wall gave in and a large hole formed by the force the demon had shoved me.

All of this happened in a matter of seconds.

"Addison," the demon's voice was calm and collected. "Settle down. Please. We have matters to discuss . . . you need to feed."

All I had gotten from that was the fact that he knew my name, causing me to hiss.

The demon spun me around to face him and my eyes widened in either realization or horror.

"Carlisle?" I gasped—at him and at my voice.

He looked even more beautiful than before. With my strangely new eyesight, I could tell there wasn't a flaw on his fit, muscle-toned body. Taking away the fact that he had no imperfections . . . there was something else that made him more radiant than before. I wasn't sure what. Perhaps it was the fact that his facial features appeared sharper, or the fact that he seemed even more elegant.

And my voice! I had not recognized it from anywhere! If I did not know better, I would say it wasn't mine. It certainly did not sound like me.

The voice sounded like a flute. Well, honestly, you could probably compare it to any musical instrument . . . as long as the said instrument was played by the highest professional.

The voice really was beautiful. It sounded like I was singing a long, meaningful song. When in reality . . . I had only said one word.

Carlisle smiled in relief as he let go of me and then suddenly he was across the room. I mean . . . I had seen him run, I caught every motion—but I was still in shock that anyone could move that fast. It just . . . it was unreal. Inhuman.

Carlisle rocked on the back of his feet, almost as if he was nervous. "Addison—I—" he hesitated, "I only—"

I understood now. He wasn't sure how to start.

"Get on with it, then. I don't have forever." The words flew from my mouth without me noticing. Was it always this natural of me to speak before thinking?

"Well, see, that's the thing . . ." Carlisle looked beyond sheepish now. I had never seen him like this. "You kind of do have forever."

"I beg your pardon?"

Instead of answering my question, Carlisle asked, "Don't you remember being sick?" After a moment of absolute silence, Carlisle continued—although with less zeal than before—, "What _do_ you remember?"

My forehead creased. I was not exactly sure was he was asking of me. Did he mean what I remembered of him? Even when I concentrated very hard, I did not remember much of anything. I slightly remembered him—such as, his name.

"I am . . . uncertain. I know who you are, but I cannot recall where I know you from . . ." My voice trailed off.

Carlisle opened his mouth to respond when I involuntarily cried out in pain, my hand flying to my neck.

Why did my neck hurt so much? I could obviously see—now that my eyes were open—that there was no demon that appeared to be torturing me . . . so what was it?

Carlisle was instantly by my side, holding me up. "I forgot how intense the burning feels when you first turn," he murmured. "I'm sorry."

"Turn?" I managed to gasp out.

Carlisle bit his lip, looking torn. Every second that he hesitated on how to reply only intensified the searing ache in my throat.

I growled, "Make up your mind!" I will admit, I was shocked at how feral I sounded at that moment. It definitely was _not_ me.

Why are you acting like this?

Because, I told myself. I am beyond desperate to make the pain stop.

Carlisle must have understood the reason behind my outburst or at least seen the pleading in my eyes, because his calm demeanor did not change.

"Alright, then," he said. "It is time for you to hunt."

My throat was screaming at me by then. I dug my fingers into my arm to try and distract myself from the pain.

"Hunt?" I questioned.

Carlisle simply shook his head. "You will not be able to sit still long enough for me to explain," he said. I must have looked confused, because he added, "The pain is too ripe."

I hissed. Mentioning the pain only made it stronger.

Carlisle—realizing what he had done—had the nerve to look sympathetic. "Come on, then. Follow me."

Carlisle turned and opened the door to the room, beckoning for me to follow him.

I obeyed Carlisle quietly, but only because I knew that he knew how to make the pain stop.

"Where are you taking me?" I asked once we reached the stairwell.

Carlisle ignored me and only continued walking.

Exasperated, I inquired something else, "What did you mean by 'hunt'? I do not see any guns."

"You ask too many questions," Carlisle told me.

"Or perhaps," I set my jaw, "_you_ don't ask enough."

All Carlisle said back was, "That is an interesting perspective."

Now we were outside and God . . . what was that _smell_? It was in the air, I realized.

What could it be?  
"What is that?" I demanded of Carlisle, my nose twitching in disgust.

"You mean the smell?" Carlisle sounded amused.

"Yes, the smell!"

"It is . . . animal blood," he admitted with a small smile.

I froze. "Blood?"

The word blood caused some sort of a reaction deep within me. Red flags went off all over my body. I knew my heart had the possibility of stopping if it still worked.

Carlisle eyed me cautiously. "Yes."

My eyes narrowed as I looked around. "Where is it coming from? I do not see any animals nor blood."

"That is because the dead animals are further out in the woods," Carlisle explained. "If you had just listened to me and stopped asking—"

"Wait!" I interrupted. "How can I smell animals that are far out in the woods?"

"First, we should go to the animals. It will be easier to explain," Carlisle promised.

My forehead wrinkled.

Why was he taking me to dead animals?

Why was he avoiding my questions?

What was going on?

I did not voice my questions this time, though. Instead, as I followed Carlisle, I looked around—and as I looked around I realized I had awoken in a cabin in the middle of a humongous wooden landscape.

"Do you know how to run?" Carlisle asked.

I stared at him. "Are you mad? Of course I know how to run!"

"No," he shook his head. "This is a different kind of running."

"What do you—?"

"When you run now . . . it is going to feel different from before," Carlisle explained. "But, all you have to do is let go and everything else will come naturally."

"Before?" I questioned. "What do you mean it will feel different from before?"

"Remember, no questions," Carlisle reminded me pointedly.

I nodded, lightly touching my throat again.

We walked a tad bit further into the forest. It was strange how slow it felt like I was going—almost like I was holding back. My muscles were itching for me to let go.

We walked until the trees got thicker and closer together. Although, it felt like we walked until the burning in my throat turned into a person and was now yelling at me.

"Drink!" it screamed.

Drink . . . _what?_ Of course I had been dehydrated over the fifteen years of my life, but being thirsty did not feel like this. Dehydration made your mouth feel dry—not like it was on fire with no water to put it out.

"Now we run," Carlisle said, then added, "Follow your instincts."

Carlisle took off running east, towards the nasty stench—otherwise known as the animal blood. Hesitantly, I followed him. I'll admit, it was hard for me to stay on track as the smell got more intense.

Desperate to focus on something else besides my throat and the smell . . . I observed the trees as I ran.

Hmm. This was odd. Usually when I ran the trees did not appear as blurs. Usually I would not be able to leap over a fallen six foot tree trunk. But I did. Without thinking.

Instincts, I reminded myself. Unfamiliar instincts.

Animals avoided us. Any time I got too close to a tree, five birds would flap off squawking at me. While I was running, animals a hundred meters away would still be scared and run off.

Suddenly and inexplicably, Carlisle stopped—causing me to run into him. We toppled over and landed against a large tree. The tree shattered against the blow, but nonetheless did not fall down.

Carlisle stood up and laughed, dusting himself off, "Over-eager, are we?" he teased.

"That is not exactly what I would call it," I replied, standing up. My eyes widened as the smell assaulted me from all around.

Though, now, I saw where the stench was coming from.

Three dead male deer stomachs were split open, intestines and all falling out. Many hungry flies were buzzing around the deer bodies. A few worms were crawling in and out of one of the larger buck's eyes.

"Oh my God!" I shrieked. I twirled to face Carlisle, my eyes ablaze. "You're insane!" I accused.

Carlisle did not respond to me at all. He just stared at me—almost like he was studying me in some sort of strange way.

"Well?" I demanded, uncomfortable.

Why was he looking at me like that?

"Trust me," he said. "That is all I will ever ask of you."

Looking into his eyes I saw nothing but the truth and something else . . .

I saw sunflower pedals. I saw the sun. I saw the stars. I saw my church dress and—I couldn't remember what else.

"I remember your eyes!" I gasped.

Carlisle looked slightly surprised by my outburst. "Oh," was all he ended up murmuring.

I was quiet then, afraid I had embarrassed myself.

After a few seconds Carlisle got out of his haze and waved me closer to the animals.

I did not budge.

"Addison, you need to feed," he urged.

"Or what?" I countered, my throat hissing in protest at my attempts for stalling.

"Or you will do something you are _going_ to regret."

He sounded so serious . . . angry, even.

I cleared my throat. "And you are certain of this?"

He chortled darkly, "Yes." Carlisle held out his pale-as-snow hand for me to take.

After a moment's thought, I nodded once to myself sharply. And then I took his hand.

Carlisle led me to the deer, his grip like a vise. I think he was afraid I was going to run off. We squatted down beside the deer—well, Carlisle squatted and then brought me down with him.

Everything was silent. Even the birds had silenced themselves in—what seemed like—anticipation. Carlisle did not say and word and neither did I—we did not have to speak.

It no longer smelled bad.

In fact, the animals smelled _very_ good.

No, I realized. It wasn't the animals the smelled good.

It was their blood.

"Drink!" my throat demanded.

Now I understood.

I was supposed to drink the blood.

I bit my lip, wanting to fight the insane urge I had. I knew that I had some moral against drinking blood, but right now I just could not for the life of me seem to recall it.

I looked over at Carlisle, uncertain.

He nodded. "Feed."

I guess that was all I needed, because the next thing I knew I was jumping on top of the buck with the worms for eyes, sucking the remaining blood out of it. The blood was not exactly appetizing, but it calmed my throat down. The blood was helping the burning!

I drank as much as I could, relishing it.

Please, I begged. Make this stop the burning.

But when there was no more blood in the buck and as I pulled away, the burning was still there—just not as strong as before.

Carlisle nudged me with his forearm, pointing towards the two other deer. "They're yours," he informed me. "I hunted yesterday."

Although I was glad he was giving me the animals, I still hesitated, realizing something, "This is not hunting. You hunted these for me. Why?"

Carlisle smiled sheepishly, "I have not had a companion before. I was not sure what to do—so I hunted for you yesterday. If this bothers you, I promise not to do it again. I was only trying to help."

"It certainly is . . ." I looked for the right word. "Thoughtful." Yes, that sounded right.

I turned my back to him, my eyes greedily searching over my meal. Then I lunged. Limbs and ligaments flew everywhere as my strangely strong teeth chomped down. Blood flew into my mouth like a stream and it stopped the fire once again.

I almost sighed in relief.

Almost. Because once the second deer had run dry, the burning started once again.

I turned to the third deer, hoping by this time around the burning would disappear completely. It did not. If anything, it only made me crave for more blood.

After a few seconds of silence, I quietly let go of the deer's ripped open neck. These deer did not deserve to die, but if they had to . . . I was glad they were put to use by sustaining me.

To the deer I whispered, "Thank you."

Carlisle, assuming I was talking to him, said, "Ah, I assume the burning has stopped?"

"No," I grumbled. "It is _still_ there." I added, "It does not hurt as much as before, though. Thank you for that."

"It was my pleasure," Carlisle smiled. "And now that you have fed I will answer your questions."

I looked over at the dead deer. If I had found them repulsive before, God, I could not even find a word to describe the atrocity they were now.

"Could we go somewhere more . . . lively?" I suggested, "Perhaps your house?"

Carlisle looked understanding. "Yes," he said with a small chuckle.

Then we were running again. Now that I had done it before and was used to it—I was really starting to like it.

"So where is your home?" I yelled over the wind as we ran.

He laughed, "You really should ask less questions!"

I smiled and—against all odds—laughed with him.

By the time we got to Carlisle's home—which happened to be the cabin we had left a few hours prior—my mind was spiraling out of control with questions. I really hoped Carlisle would keep his word and answer them.

The literal second we got through the door I bombarded Carlisle with questions, "Why do I have to drink blood? Why can I not remember things? Where are we? Why am I here? Can I go home? Where is home? Why do I not remember home?"

"One at a time," Carlisle begged, overwhelmed.

"Right," I agreed.

"So," Carlisle sighed. "What is your _first_ question?"

I thought about it for a few seconds. Which question mattered the most to me? I did not know. They all seemed quite important. There was one, though . . .

"Am I human?" I whispered. I continued, nervously, "I do not feel human and I know humans most certainly do not drink blood, but that blood seemed to calm me and it worries me! It really does! I just need—"

"Remain calm," Carlisle interrupted.

"Right," I nodded.

He eyed me warily for a few seconds before responding. Finally, Carlisle admitted, "No. You are no longer a human being."

I was surprisingly calm about that.

I guess it was because I had already known the answer the second I took my first sip of the deer blood.

Even so, I still hesitated when I asked, "So . . . what am I?"

Carlisle did not bat one of his pretty little eyelashes as he responded, "A vampire."

"A _vampire_?" I repeated skeptically.

Then, I suppose, it hit me. It really did make sense if I thought about it hard enough. The blood, for starters. How had I not known the second I actually drank blood? What else could I have been? Another thing, his skin! It was pure white. Almost like he was already dead. Oh, and his eyes! His eyes, his eyes, his eyes! I should have known they were not human! How could I have been such a fool?

Wait.

Now that I was a vampire . . . did I look like him?

"Yes," Carlisle replied. "You are a vampire."

"I need a mirror!" I cried. "I have to . . . I have to see if . . ." I trailed off, unsure how to finish it. How could I finish it? I wanted him to get me a mirror so I could see if my eyes were like my church dress?

Carlisle stood up and walked over to the bathroom, picked something up, and then walked back over to me. "Here," he said softly, handing me a large mirror.

I closed my eyes, mentally preparing myself. I was not exactly sure why, but I was scared to look into the mirror.

Maybe it was because I wanted to remember myself how I was—how I used to be. Human.

I knew eventually in my lifespan as a vampire I would have to look into a mirror eventually . . . so I might as well do it now. Right?

I opened my eyes and stared at myself.

The first thing I saw were my eyes. They were not the color of my church dress. My church dress was _yellow_. My eyes were _red_. They were redder than the blood of the deer. They were the reddest red I had ever seen. It made me look like a monster.

The creepiest part was that I was beautiful. My deep cinnamon colored hair had never looked glossier. And my skin! All of my freckles were gone! I even turned my head a little, to check if the birthmark under my neck was gone, which it was. My skin looked as white as Carlisle's.

My cheeks looked fuller, too. Carlisle had mentioned I was sick before I had become a vampire . . . was that why I always pictured my cheeks sunken in? Even though I was sitting down, I could tell I was more filled out than before. My breasts were slightly larger and I had a little more of a curve.

I had a hard time believing this girl was me. I did not recognize her from anywhere. Even though I had trouble remembering, I knew I had not looked anything quite like _this_.

It was me but it was not me at the same time.

I hardly noticed how hard my hands were gripping the mirror until the mirror itself shattered. Carlisle gently took the remaining bits of the mirror from my hands and returned it to the bathroom.

My eyes—my red, red eyes—stared at myself in horror in a piece of the shattered glass.

Carlisle returned and sat down again. I knew that he was trying to act trusting, but his eyes were glued on my face. He thought I was going to do something without thinking. Smart man.

"So," the reason my voice was so heavenly made sense now. I almost hated to hear it, "I . . . I thought v-vampires drink from humans." I met Carlisle's gaze dead on. "Not animals."

Carlisle was poised as he replied, "Normal vampires do, but I am not like other vampires. I drink from animals. I do not believe in murder."

I was taken aback by this. Unsure what to say, but knowing I had to say something, I mumbled, "I respect that."

Carlisle smiled slightly. "Do you have any other questions?"

I nodded. "You bit me?"

Now he was the one that nodded, "The letter you wrote," Carlisle appeared embarrassed, "It . . . broke my heart. I could not stand to—"

"Letter?" I asked, confused.

Carlisle was no longer smiling. "Yes . . . I think I have it on me." He patted his pockets until he stumbled upon a small envelope. "Here it is." Carlisle handed it to me.

I gave him a look. "Is this not personal?"

He shrugged. "You wrote it."

I sighed, but said nothing as I opened the envelope and read the letter.

Dear Carlisle,

I just wanted to thank you. It is not just for taking care of me, it is for being there when no one else was. Thank you for talking to me when I had no one left. I know my time is up now and I wanted to thank you for giving me some last good memories.

Do you remember when we talked about Europe that one night? I truly hope you do remember and take this to heart when I say to travel to Europe—no! Travel the world!

See everything!

See the world for me because I never could.

That would be the greatest gift of all.

Thank you again, Doctor Carlisle.

With love,

Addison

"Oh," I exclaimed softly.

I slightly remembered writing this. It had been cold and I had been crying. Not an incredible combination.

"As I was saying," Carlisle licked his lips, "Once I read the letter, I ran back and turned you—not a minute too soon, might I add!" He hesitated. "I did not think it through. You were ready to die and I stopped you and cursed you to this. I just loved you like a daughter . . . I could not let you go. Not if I knew how to help you, that is."

"No," I said, my forehead furrowing. "I understand. Do not be sorry. I presume you saved my life and I am eternally grateful."

"That's reassuring to hear," Carlisle smiled.

"Yes . . ." I murmured. "So, now, tell me all about this vampire business. I must be prepared. Is it true we turn into bats?"

* * *

**Authors note**

**Fun, right?**

**Anyway.**

**Suggestions for next chapter? I'm thinking a time skip to 20th century..**

**Ideas? Suggestions?**

**R&R!**

**Lauren**


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter five

Carlisle and I traveled around allot. We never left the country, but still! It was refreshing to be to so many new cities and states. I, myself, had never been outside of Omaha—my hometown—Nebraska. But Carlisle had to go to all of these amazing cities for his work and brought me with him!

New York City is absolutely, positively gorgeous. Polluted! But gorgeous.

And, goodness! Wait until you hear about Washington D.C.!

Though, it _is_ a little sad to watch everything around you change while you stay absolutely the same.

Carlisle loved watching everything and everyone changed. He would say, "This is history, Addison! We are witnessing history."

It did not feel like history—especially sense everything that was happening was in the present. Perhaps in a hundred years it would be history, if I lived that long. Then again, Carlisle was older than my great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great grandpa and he seemed to be doing fine.

Carlisle would tell me all of these crazy stories about what it was like back in his glory days. I lived for those stories, although he was running out of tales to tell. I suppose that was why we had to keep witnessing history—for more stories.

I kept begging to travel to Europe.

"Please, Carlisle! It is all I have ever dreamed of!" I would plead.

But it was almost like I was talking to a brick wall.

I knew why he did not want to go, of course.

"It is too . . . _risky._" He would say, then add, "The Volturi live in Italy."

Carlisle always added onto the fact that the Volturi lived in Italy—like I could ever forget! Those fools in their ebony capes were keeping me from my dream. I wanted to murder every single one of them!

I was sure that deep down Carlisle knew it would not hurt to go to France. It would not hurt to steer clear of Italy completely. The Volturi would probably not even pick up our trail—and if they did? They would probably leave us alone. Probably.

That 'probably' was keeping us from going to France and kept me trapped here in America, forced to watch as railroads were established.

I knew that I could possibly leave to travel Europe on my own, but I did not trust myself. If there was a slip up—which had only occurred _once_ all of my fifteen vampire years— I would never forgive myself. I could not go through it again.

Taking away the fact that I could slip up, I had grown attached to Carlisle. I did think of him as my father, especially since I could not remember my own.

So I was stuck here in America.

America is not horrible! Really, it is quite lovely at times. I am so thankful to be free and not under a monarchy . . . but still. It does not feel like home anymore. It feels like I am caught up in a memory that has long surpassed.

It is depressing to think about.

At the moment Carlisle is out on a doctor's call—so I am quite lonely and not to mention _thirsty_. I had long sense gotten use to the feeling of thirst—it does not bother me much anymore. But now? I would like to bet my eyes were full on black. I just wanted to go out for an itsy bitsy hunt.

Then again, Carlisle had told me not to get into any shenanigans . . .

No. Going out on a small hunt would not hurt anyone—except for maybe the animals. Besides, when Carlisle came back and I told him what I had done, we would have a nice guffaw and he would trust me just a little bit more.

There were no cons to going hunting!

Except, a dark voice reminded me, you could slip up.

My entire body seemed to shut down at that.

A few months after I had first been turned, Carlisle trusted me enough to go out on a doctor's call and leave me alone. I had told him I was not ready to be alone, but he said that I would be fine.

Except I was not fine.

In the cabin that day I smelled the most delicious scent in the history of any and everything. A human. A human was out this far in the woods?

I was so scared of what I would do. But there was a darker part of me that day. The dark part was _happy _a human had wandered this far out in the forest. The dark part was hungry for a snack.

There was a knock on the cabin door. I remember it clear as day. Two sharp knocks, a hesitation, and then three more quick knocks.

I could smell the human from outside. It smelled so good. It took everything I had in me not to rip the front door open and slice the human's neck off.

That day I cut off my breathing just like Carlisle had taught me to and—using horrible judgment— opened the front door. What can I say? I thought I could handle it.

There, on the cabin's front porch stood a little girl. She could not have been older than seven.

"Excuse me," her voice was so tiny, "But I think that I am lost."

I managed a stiff, "Come inside."

But the second the little girl walked in . . . I do not know. I just had no control. I lunged at the little girl, slamming her against the wall. I heard her spine crack, but I did not care.

I bit her.

Her screams were like her voice—tiny.

No one heard her.

When the little girl was empty I threw her against the floor like she was nothing. I wanted more. I wanted more human blood.

I was about to go marching out the cabin door to the nearest town to go on a killing spree when something stopped me dead in my tracks.

The little girl I had just killed—her ghost was right in front of me. Staring at me. She did not even look angry. Just sad. Maybe even a little confused.

"Look—" I said, wanting to explain my actions.

The little girl shook her head, evidently cutting me off. The little girl had the brightest blue eyes as she stared right dead at me and asked, "Why?"

I never answered her and eventually she disappeared.

Carlisle was out on a doctor's call for a week . . . so for six days I stared at the little girl with the bright blue eye's body—thinking to myself—

I never knew her name.

Needless to say, I did not exactly want to go hunting after relapsing that situation.

But I was still so thirsty . . .

"Be placid," I murmured to myself. "Placid. Placid. Be _placid_. Calm. Calm. Carlisle would not be having this problem right now. He is placid and calm all of the time. You are not. Placid. Calm."

I sighed heavily and put my head in my hands. What did I usually to distract myself from the thirst . . . ? Sometimes I would talk to Carlisle's father . . . he would be very helpful.

A year or two after my change I had told Carlisle about what I could do and to my utter amazement he believed me! He said some special vampires have "gifts" and that my gift was to see dead people.

"I can see your father," I had told him.

That made Carlisle very sad. So sad that I did not bring up his father again after that.

Although, when Carlisle was gone hunting or helping others Pastor Cullen would show up and we would talk. I could not exactly help it. I had no control over spirits and whenever I was around Pastor Cullen—just like Carlisle—I always felt blissful.

Since I had no human friends and no vampire companions beside Carlisle, Pastor Cullen was a big deal to me. Especially because ever since I had turned, my usual ghost pals avoided me. I did not remember their names, just that I had had many ghost friends and now I had none—save for Pastor Cullen.

"How is your throat?" Pastor Cullen asked, eyeing me warily.

"It is uncomfortable, but manageable," I replied quietly.

Pastor Cullen had always believed in monsters—even as a human. He used to hate them. But now that his only son was a vampire, I think his viewpoint had changed. Pastor Cullen was supportive when I was in pain and tried to console me when I had bad days about the little girl.

I had a feeling I would never really get over her—the girl.

"You should hunt," he said. "Carlisle will understand."

"No," I disagreed sharply. "He will not. Carlisle does not trust me and for a good reason."

"He trusts you!" Pastor Cullen argued.

"Carlisle trusts me like a cat trusts a mouse."

Pastor Cullen said nothing. I think he knew I was right on this one.

I changed the subject, "What have you been up to? How are things on the other side?"

He shrugged, "Lonely. I always figured eventually my son would join me over here and it would not be so bad . . . but . . ."

"That sounds awful," I commented, unsure of what he wanted me to say.

"It is," he hesitated, "hard to only be able to watch. I wish I could talk to him. I have so much to say. I never got to say goodbye."

"I could serve as messenger?" I offered. "Relay some last words to him?"

"No," Pastor Cullen said firmly. "It is very kind of you to ask, but for you to speak my words would demean the message."

"I understand."

I did not understand—not really, anyway.

"Why does Carlisle always leave you alone?" Pastor Cullen wondered aloud.

"He is a doctor with many patients. You know this."

"Yes." Pastor Cullen materialized right next to me. "I _meant_ why do you not go with him? Help him?"

My eyes widened and I shook my head vigorously. "I can't be around humans!" I thought about the little girl with the bright blue eyes. "I literally cannot!"

"_Now_ you cannot, but only because you refuse to be around humans . . ." he squinted at me. "You need resistance training. Perhaps you can be around humans in natural situations without worrying, then?"

"It isn't work the risk."

He shrugged. "All of Carlisle's patients are bound to die of their disease eventually. You would be doing them a favor by ending their lives . . . it is merciful."

My eyes gleamed with tears that I could no longer shed. It was just one of those vampire things.

Not being able to cry.

"That is the opposite of mercy!" I hissed, jumping up. I couldn't even be around him.

"Settle down," he commanded.

"No! What's the point?" I asked—begged. "It isn't like anyone will hear me!" Quietly—almost as if a whisper—I said, "I'm just tired of feeling like this."

"This?" Pastor Cullen questioned, raising a brow.

"Yes!" I cried. "Feeling like I'm only existing. What was the point of Carlisle saving my life if I don't mean anything?" I was riled up now. "Everyone thinks I'm dead! In fact . . . everything would have been better if I had died."

"How? How would things be better?" he pressed.

"I don't know! This life does nothing but wear me out! I'm tired of the thirst and the pain and how I hide out in here." I shook my head, "I'm bothered by living in constant rain clouds because we cannot go into the sunlight! I hate how I feel exhausted but I can never sleep! I wish I could remember my parents. I wish I could remember what it felt like to be human. But there's just – nothing! Everything is gone and I'm stuck like this." I wanted to cry. "I'm trapped forever like this."

Pastor Cullen stared at me for a few seconds. "You would have rather have died as a human?"

My brow furrowed. "I didn't say that."

"You didn't have to."

My lip quivered. "What should I do?"

Pastor Cullen smiled, but he looked unsettled, "What _can _you do?"

"I'm not sure. Any suggestions?"

He looked confused. "You want suggestions on how to kill yourself?"

"Kill myself?" I shrieked, appalled.

Pastor Cullen sighed in relief. "Thank God you weren't actually considering suicide! You've made my son happier than I have witnessed in decades. Plus—it is nice having someone to talk to . . ."

"That's the only reason you want me alive? For your personal gain?" I questioned, offended.

His eyes were mirthful as he responded, "I suppose _you_ would see it like that."

I glared at him. "Is that supposed to be an insult?"

Pastor Cullen laughed. "It's not for my personal gain," he explained. "It's that Carlisle and I have grown to care for you like a . . ."

For a few seconds I didn't say anything, thinking that he was going to finish his sentence. But when he never did, I asked, "A . . . what?"

"A daughter," he finished quietly.

Would it be weird to say I could feel my own eyes light up? I knew my grin was wide and goofy as I said, simply, "Thank you."

"For what?"

I, too, was confused for a few moments. Why had I said thank you? I hadn't really thought about it at the time. It had just come out. And then finally, I realized, "I'm thankful that you're here. It has always been hard for me to be alone."

"It's no problem!" he assured. After a small pause, he continued, "Although, I do wonder sometimes why the other spirits avoid you."

I raised my brows, surprised someone had actually admitted out loud that spirits were avoiding me. Granted, I had always known they _were_, but it just felt different hearing it.

"I don't know," I said. "And, frankly, it upsets me greatly that you're the only one on the other side that can stand to be around me."

Pastor Cullen smiled and in that moment he looked almost exactly like Carlisle. So compassionate and kind. "For the record," he replied, "I find your company extremely fulfilling. I'm not sure how anyone—alive or dead—can stray from you."

* * *

"Tell me again why we're going to Alaska?" I asked Carlisle.

Carlisle laughed as he shut down the top of his suitcase, turning to face me. "My dear friends of the Denali Coven live there. I haven't seen them in . . . fifty some years! Plus, I would absolutely love for you to meet them. I know you all will get along great."

"Are you sure?" I questioned, afraid they wouldn't like me.

If Carlisle's friends didn't like me . . . would Carlisle abandon me?

"Of course!" he answered enthusiastically.

I smiled. "How many of them are there again?"

"In the coven?" he asked and I nodded. "Well, there's the three sisters—Tanya, Kate, and Irina. They're very old vampires, perhaps a thousand? I'm not sure. I haven't ever asked."

"Why?" I inquired. Carlisle looked confused, so I continued, "Why haven't you asked how old they are?"

He shrugged, "Time is a touchy subject for vampires." Carlisle got a far-away look in his eyes for a few seconds, before saying, "There's two other vampires in the coven—Carmen and Eleazar—who are mated."

"Do any of them have gifts?" I wondered as he picked up my suitcase and walked towards the door of our rented house. I followed Carlisle outside.

As he locked up the door to our home, putting the key under the mat, he said, "Yes, two of them. Eleazar can tell what other vampires and humans gifts are and Kate can project an electric current throughout her body."

"Impressive," I said quietly.

We walked towards the edge of the woods slowly. Carlisle knew I always got attached to every home we lived in—it was difficult for me to leave.

Reaching the woods, Carlisle turned to me, "Are you ready?"

"Yes."

We started running.

Carlisle would be leading the way, since he had been to Alaska many times and had long sense memorized the route. I was slightly worried that I would need a coat for Alaska, mainly because Alaska was nicknamed named "Seward's Ice-Box". When I had expressed my worries about the temperature to Carlisle he had only laughed.

"The cold doesn't affect vampires," he had said. "Our body temperature can't possibly go lower—since we're technically dead."

It was depressing, but it made sense.

Nonetheless, I was still stressing about the cold temperature. I was used to freezing weather—being that I was born and raised in Nebraska. I remembered whenever summer ended my mother would always get on me about not wearing a coat outside. That's why—now, fifteen years later— I always wear a coat when I go outside, even though I don't feel the cold. I remember my mother scolding me.

It was a strange concept—remembering things.

Names were hard for me. I only remembered the people that had been with me near the end—and sometimes, not even then. Faces were always blurry and childhood memories were out of the question. My years of adolescence were foggy, but if I concentrated hard enough I could get some memories back.

It was insane. I had memories of running into a man's arms and calling him my father. But he had no face. I could no longer remember what it looked like. There were times when I would remember my mother teaching me to sew, but her clothes were gray and she had no smell. She, too, had no face. I remember a maid teaching me to read and write—I think her name was Anna or Annie . . . something like that.

The weirdest thing was that how I used to feel about these people no longer applied. In my memories when I would laugh with my mother or talk to my father I would soar with love, but . . . now? It was like they were complete and utter strangers.

I didn't love them anymore. When I had turned, all of my old bonds had disappeared. I wasn't just a vampire, I was a completely new person.

I had mixed emotions about my memories. I was glad that I still had them and could live in the past sometimes. I was also grateful that I no longer felt any emotions towards the people in my human life, it would've made it harder to leave them behind.

But at the same time, I was depressed. I wished I could remember more. Sometimes I wondered what it would be like if I loved my parents. I knew they still loved me. I always wondered if they were still alive—and if they were, how were they coping with the fact that I wasn't with them anymore? Did they think I was dead? Did I have a grave? Were they looking for me? Or did they move on and forget about me?

It was selfish, but I hoped they hadn't moved on and forgotten about me. I wanted to be remembered. I didn't want to be forgotten. Erased. I didn't want it to be like I wasn't even there at all—like so many others who had died of The White Plague.

I didn't care if my parents were happy or not, after all, I didn't love them. I felt nothing towards them. I wanted them to be upset and crying every single day, remembering me.

And I hated myself for it.

We ran for four days, stopping once to hunt a few elks before continuing our journey.

It was November at the time and Alaska knew it. Snow covered everything in sight, claiming the area as its own. In the distance I saw a few citizens ice fishing, covered in thick coats.

I didn't feel cold. In fact, if anything, it felt warm.

"Are we close to their home?" I asked Carlisle.

"Yes," he said. "Their home is around a mile or two from here." Carlisle looked over to the townsfolk ice fishing and added, "Don't get seen, it's slightly sunny out. Stay by the tree line."

"Will do."

Alaska was beautiful, naturally having that middle-of-nowhere vibe. It must be nice that the Denali's didn't have to move around so much. They could build a life here. Maybe have friends. I envied that.

I had always wanted to ask Carlisle if we could have a permanent house somewhere, but I knew he would refuse. Plus, I was always afraid to ask Carlisle things. I had this irrational fear that one day he would stop wanting me as a companion. He would say I hold him back . . . or something like that.

As Carlisle and I finally reached a top of a hill, I could look down and see the Denali home. It was small, but quaint. It was nearly all wooden, save for a wonderful stove chimney. The architecture was clearly original—not modeled off of anything I'd ever seen before. The design looked strange to me.

"Carlisle!" a beautiful blonde woman called out cheerfully, rushing over to his side. "It is wonderful to see you! How long has it been?"

"Too long," Carlisle chucked.

The woman peered around him to look at me. "And who is this?" she questioned. "Your mate?"

I couldn't help the loud guffaw that erupted from me. "No, no!" I clarified, "I'm his friend. We've been traveling together."

"Oh!" she looked embarrassed. "Hello, then. My name is Tanya. What is your name?"

"Addison." I said.

Tanya was gorgeous like every vampire. Now that I was closer, I could see tints of red in her blonde hair which made her a strawberry blonde. Tanya's eyes were a light gold, like Carlisle's and mine. I could tell she had just recently hunted. Tanya walked like she was the ruler of the world . . . with elegance and arrogance. Hey, I suppose she was ruler of the world. Her world.

Even though she had done nothing wrong I didn't like her. I didn't even want to pretend to like her.

"What a beautiful name," she complimented. Tanya looked over at Carlisle briefly before looking back to me. "Why don't you both come inside?" she suggested. "Everyone else is out hunting . . . they should be back soon."

"They left you here alone?" I asked.

Tanya shrugged. "I'm not complaining. They're always too loud! I love my own quiet time."

I nodded in understanding.

We walked inside together, Tanya and Carlisle enjoying a private joke while I was silent. Normally I loved meeting new people, talking to them and all. But I was so nervous and I didn't know Tanya that well. I suppose she _seemed_ nice, but doesn't everyone at first?

The inside of the Denali home was even more extravagant than the outside. The foyer was decorated with fancy leather sofas shadowed by a gorgeous antler chandelier hanging from the ceiling. Portraits and black and white photos covered nearly every inch of the entrance wall, somewhat exposing the Denali family history.

In that moment I realized I had no pictures of me as a vampire—nothing to prove that I ever even existed. It was not a good feeling.

I turned away from the pictures on the wall, my stomach twisting. My chest was burning with heartache. What made it much worse was how Carlisle and Tanya hadn't even noticed my mood change—they were still talking and laughing.

It was like I wasn't even there.

I suppose it was partially my fault. After all, I hadn't really tried to engage myself in their conversation. Although . . . how was I supposed to be involved in a conversation that was part of something private between the two of them?

Change the topic.

"Excuse me," I interrupted them. They both turned towards me, confused. Slightly abashed I continued, "Did you build this house yourself? It's like nothing I've ever seen before."

Tanya smiled to herself. Almost snidely she said, "You're so young. I'll bet you haven't seen much."

I set my jaw angrily. How dare she call me a child? Carlisle had told me she was much older than me, but that did _not_ make me immature by any standards! And, of course I looked young! I was a thirty-one year old woman trapped in a fifteen-year-old's body!

"The nerve—" I hissed, readying myself to lunge at her.

Carlisle cut me off, sensing a fight was about to start, "Everyone just settle down. We're all friends here. There's no need to fight."

Absorbing Carlisle's words, Tanya's eyes widened as she realized what she had said. "Oh, I'm so sorry, Addison! I didn't mean it like that. I've just been having a hard time around here . . ." she trailed off sadly, looking down.

I got the feeling that if I didn't forgive her I'd have a huge problem on my hands, so I replied, "It's alright. I understand."

"What's been troubling you?" Carlisle asked, his forehead creasing in concern.

"Can we sit?" Tanya suggested. "It's easier to talk that way."

"Of course," Carlisle said.

The two of them walked towards the Denali's fancy leather couch, Tanya taking deep breaths to calm herself. I put my suitcase down my the doorway, feeling awkward. After all, I was the one who had gotten Tanya so upset in the first place. This whole trip felt like a huge mistake already. I couldn't believe I had been stupid enough to accept Carlisle's offer.

Not knowing what else to do, I walked over to the couch and took a seat next to Carlisle. I don't think either of them noticed my sudden appearance, they were very engrossed in their conversation.

"You know how I love to play with humans," Tanya told Carlisle with a large pout on her face. When Carlisle nodded in clarification, she continued, "Well, I do grow attached to my toys sometimes . . . and one of my closest male companions died a week ago."

Toys? She played with human males like toys?Carlisle had once told me he respected the Denali's. How could you respect someone who uses people like that?

"I'm sorry for your loss," Carlisle's voice was sincere and sympathetic.

"I know you are," Tanya smiled fondly. "You are _such_ are good friend."

I could feel my face contort in disgust at her words. Was I the only one who heard the flirtatious tone? It couldn't just be me.

"Tanya!" a woman's voice called from the front door.

All three of us turned in sequence to see a group of beautiful strangers enter the room.

"Carlisle!" a blonde woman squealed in delight.

"It's so good to see you!" another blonde cried.

Two dark haired vampires, one male and one female, stood to the side awkwardly. They reminded me of myself. While the three blondes obsessed over Carlisle, I walked over to the outsiders.

"Hello," I greeted, stretching my hand out for a shake.

The male reached out and shook my arm firmly, a small smile dancing on his lips. My eyes widened slightly at how his skin was darker than mine. How was that possible?

The woman shook my hand next, excitement in her eyes. "Are you Carlisle's mate?" she asked.

I laughed, "Why does everyone keep saying that?" Realizing that the two of them were still expecting an answer, I added in, "No, Carlisle and I are just friends. He's told me allot about you all."

"Good things, I hope," the female laughed. "My name is Carmen and this is my husband Eleazar."

"I'm Addison." I told her.

"It's so refreshing to see that Carlisle has had company all of this time!" Carmen turned to Eleazar, "We've been so worried about him."

"Yes," Eleazar agreed halfheartedly, he wasn't focused entirely on the conversation at hand. This whole time Eleazar had been studying me under a scrutinizing gaze. I had no idea why he was doing it and it was starting to make me uncomfortable.

I opened my mouth to ask him what his problem was when Eleazar cut me off before I had even started, "You have a gift, yes?"

In that moment I remembered Carlisle explaining that Eleazar's gift was to pick up onto other's gifts. So that was why Eleazar was acting like a creep! "Yes!" I agreed, almost too enthusiastically. I was eager to learn more about my gift of seeing the dead.

Eleazar shook his head in amazement. "Seeing the dead . . . I never would have thought that possible."

Carmen raised her brows, "She sees the dead?"

"Yes," Eleazar confirmed. "Addison is a very special girl."

* * *

**Thoughts?**

**Suggestions?**

**Next chapter Edward comes in and there's going to be so much drama there..**

**R&R**

**-Lauren**


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: Everything you recognize is Stephanie Meyer's!**

* * *

Chapter six

The decade of 1910 was horrible.

Usually Carlisle loved when history happened. I, too, found it interesting. History was supposed to be incredible. It was supposed to make the vampiric life worth living. But here's that strange thing with history . . . usually it's bad.

I remember April fifteenth of 1912 like it was yesterday. Carlisle and I had come back from a weekend hunt, both craving some alone time to just sit back and relax.

When the paper came and I saw the headline . . . I swear I thought I was going to cry.

"What's wrong?" Carlisle had asked, seeing the look on my face.

"The Titanic . . ." it sounded like I was in a daze, even to me.

"Yes," Carlisle urged for me to finish. He rushed towards me, "What's happened, Addison?"

"It sunk." I stared at him, my mouth half open and half closed, almost like it couldn't decide which reaction to take.

"But," his forehead wrinkled. "That's impossible . . . ? Isn't it impossible? They said it wouldn't sink." Carlisle's eyes widened in horror, "The life boats . . . ! Oh, God." An eternal sadness passed over his eyes. "How many are dead?"

I read down the news article. "It says an estimated amount of over one thousand five hundred people died last night."

"This is a disaster." Carlisle said simply.

"What are we going to do?" I asked.

"We can't do anything. The damage has been done." I had never seen Carlisle look so completely and utterly broken before. I was surprised this was effecting him so much. Yes, Carlisle was compassionate, but to this extent? He was acting as if he had known each of the dead passengers personally.

"I'm sorry," I told him.

"Why are you sorry?" he looked puzzled.

"I'm not sure. I feel as though no one will take responsibility for the sinking of the Titanic." I hesitated. "So maybe I should."

We didn't say anything after that—heavy weights resting on both of our shoulders.

A few months after the Titanic sunk I started to see more ghosts than usual. It wasn't allot of ghosts at first—maybe one or two. But as the weeks dragged on, more and more ghosts found me and started to bombard me with requests—

"Where am I?"

"Where's my daughter?"

"Help me! You have to!"

"The iceberg!"

"It's so cold here."

"I need your assistance, please."

"Miss . . ."

It went on like that for days and days. I didn't even have my own thoughts—my mind was full of ghosts begging me for things that I had no control over.

"Warn the captain of the iceberg!"

"Slow the ship down!"

"Why aren't there enough lifeboats?"

"It's so cold."

"I can't swim!"

They had no needs anymore . . . they didn't need to sleep or eat or even take a break from yammering at me. Whereas, I needed breaks. I needed to hunt and have peace and quiet.

It was never, ever quiet after the Titanic. Sometimes the ghosts would get frustrated with me and leave me alone for a little while, but there were persistent ones that would stay behind. They weren't as loud as the others. Their voices were like the wind. I had to struggle to hear them sometimes.

. . . _the water _. . .

_. . . . . . so cold _. . . .

_. . . . help us, help us, help us _. . .

. . ._ drowning _. . .

. . . ._ please _. . . .

_. . . . too cold, so cold_ . . . .

Then, the worst one of all;

. . . _why . . . . _

Nothing made the restless spirits stop. If I told them to leave me alone, it only made them elated that I was giving them attention. If I ignored them, it only made them more determined.

After a few months I learned to tune them out. Their voices never went away, but it was easier to ignore them.

And then The Great War happened. It made the Titanic look like a grain of sand in a large ocean of roaring waves. I had thousands—perhaps millions?—of ghosts screaming at me in dozens of different languages that I didn't even speak. Tuning them out wasn't an option; it was impossible.

Carlisle would hunt for me and bring the animals back to our temporary home. Even with the animals hunted for me it was difficult to focus to pull my head down to feed.

Shortly after The Great War started, the Lusitania sunk. It was like the Titanic all over again. I was used to ghosts bombarding me, but when ships sank they usually said the same things.

"The water's so cold."

"I can't feel anything.

"Why won't anyone help us?"

Sometimes the ghosts didn't even try to form words.

They would just scream.

For four years I lived with voices in my head that never ceased. The ghosts were too young to materialize so only their voices would show. Pastor Cullen left me alone all of this time, knowing if he came it would only make matters worse.

I tried to read Dracula one day when the voices weren't as harsh. I had gotten to page four before I was interrupted.

"Miss," a soldier with what I think was a British accent said. I looked up from my book to see he had materialized. He must have been killed early on in the war to have been able to take a shape for me to see. "Miss, please. I've been here for as long as I can remember. I waited my turn. I just need your help."

I look at him. "Don't you get it? You're dead now. You don't belong in this world. I _can't_ help you and bothering me won't change that fact."

"But you don't understand!" he protested. "My mother and little sister don't know I'm dead. I got killed in action, but they couldn't identify my body. My mother wakes up every morning and waits by the front door, just staring at it—thinking I'll walk through it if she stares hard enough."

"I'm sorry," I told him, "Really, I am. But I can't do anything. You just have to move on."

"Miss, please," he begged. "Just write them a letter! Please, that's all I'm asking. If you write them a letter, I swear on my grandfather's grave I'll leave you alone and I'll get the others to leave you alone, too."

I liked the "leave you alone" part of that.

"Others?" I asked, raising a brow.

He nodded enthusiastically, glad I was participating in his conversation, "Yes! The other ghosts! I'll tell them to go away and they'll listen to me."

"Do you promise? You won't go back on your word?"

He nodded even harder than before. "Yes, miss. I swear I will not go back on my word."

I sighed, "Alright then."

I got a piece of paper and copied down an address the soldier boy recited from heart. I wrote down the boy's message and then gave it to Carlisle to send to the post office.

Carlisle looked surprised to see me. "Addison?"

"Yes. I live here, don't you remember?" I joked.

"Of course! I—I just never see you anymore . . . have the ghosts stopped pestering you?" he sounded hopeful.

"If you mail that," I pointed to the letter I gave him, "they will."

"How?" Carlisle questioned.

I shrugged, not sure for myself how it was going to work, "Ghost politics."

I went back up to my room to finish reading Dracula. To my complete surprise, I did get to finish it. No ghosts, no voices, no screams were heard at all. For once in four years it was quiet.

The soldier boy had kept his word.

There were a few peaceful weeks after that. Of course, there were a few times a ghost or two would start yelling at me in either French or German, but it was easy to tune out. Life was good.

But then the Spanish Influenza happened.

We had been living in Chicago at the time it occurred. Carlisle was never at home, he was always busy at the hospital. He would tend to the living and I would try to console the dead.

It was insane how many people were dying every day. It wasn't that I could exactly see or hear every single person that was dying, but I felt it. Every time someone died was a blow to my heart.

I had become used to everyone dying all around me. It was horrible but it didn't bother me anymore. There was so much death in the 1910s that death itself had become meaningless. Carlisle had thoughts like this, too. He didn't feel guilty anymore when one of his patients died.

That's why I was absolutely, positively shocked to my very core when one night in the midst of the Influenza Carlisle brought home a boy with him. Not just a regular boy—no—a boy who was going through the change. I could hear his heartbeat from two levels up in the house.

I was instantly downstairs. "Carlisle?" I called out in alarm. I traced his scent into our living room where a lanky, but muscular boy was lying on our floor. He was screaming.

"Addison . . ." Carlisle said, holding his hands out to protect the boy.

"What?" I scoffed. "You think I'm going to harm him?"

"I'm not sure how you're going to react," Carlisle replied, using the slow and careful tactic. "But Edward here is joining our family."

Even though I had expected as much, I was still outraged.

"What?" I screeched. "How—why—I can't even—"

"Calm down!" Carlisle interrupted.

"No, I don't understand! Why him? Why out of the millions that are dying? Why do you pick him?" I was desperate to understand.

"Addison—"

"Carlisle! You and I are surrounded by death every single day. Would it really have hurt so bad to let him die, too?" When he didn't answer, I demanded, "Would it have hurt?"

"He's different than the others," Carlisle said, looking over to Edward. "He deserves to live."

"How do you know that?" I inquired. "You don't even _know_ him."

"I didn't know you at first."

"Well!" I was screaming by then. "Maybe you should have just left me to die!"

Neither of us said anything. Both of us were in shocked of what I had just said. I hadn't meant it—not really anyway. It slipped out. I couldn't take it back, though.

I'll never forget the look on Carlisle's face that night. I'll also never forget what he said, too, "I gave you life and all you ever do is obsess over the dead."

I still felt horrible about what I had said earlier, but now he had gone and gotten me riled up again. "Life!" I cried. "You call this life?" I stared him right dead in the eye and snarled, "You know _nothing_ about living if you claim for what I have right now a life."

"You don't have a life? Then what do you have?" Carlisle narrowed his eyes at me. His tone was bleak, his words cold.

"I am as dead as the ghosts I've been forced to listen to for all of these years!" I yelled.

"You aren't dead!" Carlisle argued, anger burning brightly in his eyes. "In all of my years I have never met someone as ungrateful as you! I saved your life and you have never even thanked me. We've traveled together for over thirty years together and you never once said thank you."

"Why should I be thankful?" I roared. "I'm going to be stuck with voices in my head for the rest of eternity! It's your fault! It's _all_ your fault."

Carlisle retorted, "Have you ever considered that you _deserve_ the torture these ghosts have put you through? Perhaps God gave you your gift because you need punishing for your wrongs?"

My nostrils flared as I tried to come up with a snarky reply. Nothing came. We stared at each other for a few seconds, before I hissed, "You really have crossed the line this time."

Carlisle glared at me for a few seconds before stepping forward and slapping me so hard I thought my head was going to fly off my body. My eyes were wide as I touched where he had hit me, the spider-like cracks still healing over.

Carlisle, too, was shocked at his actions and held his hand out in an apology. "Addison—"

I lunged at him.

With my newborn strength long gone, Carlisle easily overpowered me. He slammed my head down hard against the ground, causing a small crater in response. Carlisle had trapped my arms under his own strong ones, snarling in my face.

There were very few times Carlisle ever dropped his calm demeanor, but when he did . . . it was like he was a completely different person.

I liked to think that Carlisle's placidness was a mask he put up to block himself from his dark thoughts. But when Carlisle would put up his mask, he would keep other emotions bottled up inside. Therefore, when his mask dropped all of these past emotions would be released.

Carlisle would go crazy.

And so I think that was why Carlisle ended up ripping my leg off.

My screams had rivaled against Edward's. I immediately fell to the floor, gasping in pain. Carlisle had snapped out of his murderous haze once he saw me howling on the floor. Carlisle collapsed beside me, his mouth a wide 'O' of horror.

"Addison! I'm very sorry! I have no idea what came over me." I could tell he was sorry, but I didn't want to respond. I knew if I opened my mouth to say anything I would just start screaming again.

Taking my silence to heart, Carlisle murmured sadly, "Alright then . . . let's reattach your leg. I'm going to need you to . . . "

* * *

We hadn't talk in hours. After the whole detached-limb fiasco we decided to go for a run. Well, I _wanted_ to run, but being that my leg was so sore I limped at a human pace. We didn't make it that far from the house before I collapsed on the ground, nearly convulsing in pain.

Carlisle sat own beside me silently. I could tell he didn't know what to say for his actions. Carlisle had already apologized at least a dozen times, but I always waved him off—saying it was fine.

But it wasn't fine. I couldn't even look at him.

Everything suddenly felt so wrong. It felt wrong to be friends with someone who had just tried to kill me. It felt wrong to see the dead. It felt wrong that Carlisle could choose who he wanted to live. It felt wrong that I was still alive.

After a few minutes in silence I said, "I think I'm going to go travel to Europe."

"Alright, I'll go when you," Carlisle nodded in agreement. I couldn't believe that he would want to go with me that easily. I had spent that past thirty some years trying to convince him to go for God's sake! As almost an afterthought, Carlisle added, "Well, of course we'll leave after Edward's—"

I interrupted him, "No . . . I'm not asking you to come with me."

"Pardon?"

I stared at him dead in the eye and said, "I'm going to Europe alone."

Carlisle's eyes widened, a foreign emotion dancing across his face. "Addison—oh . . . Addison. Why?"

My brow wrinkled. Why? I hadn't expected for him to ask why. I hadn't expected for him to care that much. After all, he had Edward now.

"You know, honestly," I said. "I believe it to be that we bring out the worst in each other."

"That's not true and you know it!" Carlisle protested.

"Oh, really?" I challenged. "Have you _ever_ attacked anyone before tonight?" He stayed silent. "That's what I thought. You'll be better off without me."

Carlisle's eyes were beyond sad. "There's nothing I can do to change your mind?"

"No," I said softly, then quickly added, "But you'll thank me one day. You and Edward will be better than you and I ever were."

He said nothing.

I struggled over my next sentence, "Well, I had better go get my bags. Europe's quite the journey." I stood up to hobble back inside when an arm desperately reached out and grabbed mine.

"Wait," Carlisle said, standing up, too. "You're leaving _now_?"

"Why wait?" I asked rhetorically.

"I assumed we'd have a little more time together," Carlisle admitted. Seeing I was turning away from him to go inside, Carlisle quickly said, "If you ever come back to America and want to meet— I've decided to go back to Columbus Ohio after Chicago. Remember that pretty town?"

I did remember it and it _was_ pretty, but I truly didn't believe that I would be back in America for a long time. I needed to get away. I needed to see the world.

"I'll keep it in mind," I replied stiffly, before turning and walking inside.

Edward was still screaming, his features turning vampiric by every agonized breath. I felt bad for him. I really did. He hadn't asked for this. Even if Edward somehow liked behind a vampire I would still feel bad for him.

Yes, Carlisle and I feed from animals, but there are accidents. Out of the two of us there has only been one slipup, but it seemed like so much more to me than only one human life.

You never forget a slipup. Edward didn't deserve to live with that. No one did. I wouldn't wish it on my worst enemy.

Looking at my room through clearer eyes, I saw I didn't have many possessions. At most I had a dozen dresses, one or two books, and a small flute Carlisle had taught me to play.

I owned one suitcase and I packed it to the best of my ability.

I had no idea how I was going to get to Europe. I had an embarrassing fear of ships after the whole Titanic and Lusitania thing. I couldn't swim, all of my belongings would be ruined. I suppose I could fly, but I had never been on an airplane before and the thought of being in a confined space with so many humans made me uncomfortable.

Alaska and Russia were close together—separated by a laughably small amount of ocean . . . maybe I could run up to Alaska and swim over to Russia? My leg still hurt, though . . .

"Don't think so far ahead," I muttered to myself.

Think of it like steps.

Step one, get out of this house

Step two, get to Europe

Step three . . . there wasn't a step three.

What the hell was I going to do once I got to Europe? It wasn't like I knew anyone. I didn't know the geography well. I spoke no foreign languages. Maybe I hadn't thought this whole 'Europe idea' through. Maybe I should just stay here with Carlisle . . .

No. Even though I hadn't figured out any of the details yet, this trip felt right. I needed to get away.

I picked up my suitcase and walked downstairs slowly, testing my leg out. I had a long run ahead of me and I needed to make sure I was prepared. Edward had quieted down a little, but his face was still contorted in agony. Poor kid.

Carlisle stood by the front door, his arms crossed lightly. "You're really doing this?" he sounded skeptical.

"Yes," I said, walking towards him. "Despite you ripping my leg off, I hope we can still be friends overtime . . . . Or at least keep in touch."

He nodded firmly, various emotions swimming in his eyes. Carlisle then hugged me so tightly my bones started to ache.

"Goodbye, Addison," he whispered, letting go.

With a heavy heart, I said, "I won't say goodbye, because saying goodbye means going away and going away means forgetting. I won't forget you, Carlisle."

I opened up the front door and was about to start running to Alaska when I hesitated. I turned around, "Carlisle," I said.

"Yes?" he sounded hopeful.

"Columbus, Ohio, right?"

"Columbus," he confirmed.

I smiled, "I'll see you around."

And then I was gone.

* * *

**Thoughts on this chapter?**

**Kind of short.**

**Anywho..I need allot more reviews. **

**Reviews = motivation**

**Ktnx**

**-Lauren**


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer; SM owns Twilight**

* * *

Chapter seven

Alaska felt different.

The smell was the same—musky mixed with the past scents of animals and humans. It looked the same—everything coated in white powder. It even felt the same—woodsy and ancient.

It took me awhile to realize it wasn't Alaska that was different.

It was me—I had changed.

I had less pride now. I was alone.

I didn't even know who I was. Not _really_ anyway. Everyone claims to have found themselves at some point. You know what you like to do and you know what makes you happy, but do you know yourself? _Really_ know yourself?  
Do you know why you say the things you do? Or why you act like that around that certain person? Do you know what makes your eyes light up, or makes them simmer down?

And . . . if _you _don't know yourself, who will?

Who will understand that you don't actually mean to be offensive? Or that you only do certain things because you care? Who will be able to not just forgive, but forget, too?

Who?

No one was by the coastline of Alaska. It might have had something to do with the massive blizzard, but we'll never know. With my enhanced eyes, I could see the edge of Russia from where I was standing.

That's Europe, I told myself. You're doing this. You made it.

When I'd thought about Europe, I always had imagined glorious streets paved with gold, rainbows erupting from every corner of the place. But Russia looked like a pile of stacked ice.

I knew—geographically speaking—that Russia wasn't a part of Europe, but the sentiment was the same to me. Basically, in my head, everything that wasn't 'America' was Europe.

I really couldn't believe I had made it this far. I was almost there. Could I really do this? America was all I had ever known, land of the brave and free. I didn't know Russia's laws or what kind of government they had. What if I violated some sort of law and got in trouble? Should I really risk it?

Yes. Definitely, I told myself.

Everything will be worth it.

I dove into the water without a second thought. I wasn't sure how I knew how to swim. I didn't remember being taught, but—then again, I didn't remember much of anything.

My strokes were powerful—inhumanly so. I made it to Russia in a minute or two, soaking wet, but glowing in pride. I lifted myself out of the water and onto the Russian lands. I took my first step the way a newborn baby would take theirs: cautiously.

As I stepped down for the first time outside of America I only felt disappointment. Nothing felt different. Nothing looked different. Everything was exactly the same.

For a brief moment I considered turning back. After all, what was the point of going to yet another America? What was the point of going to this place, where I was bound to meet another man like Carlisle? I would get attached and then we would have a fight, then I'd leave again.

Then again . . . if I turned back now I knew I was sure to go running back to Carlisle. And that would look nothing short of pathetic.

In the end I decided to keep going, venturing onward into Russia.

Maybe I could be happy here?

* * *

There were military officers all over Russia. I continuously had to jump into trees to shield myself from them. I remember wondering why so many soldiers were patrolling 24/7. The Great War was over . . . Right?

Sometimes I would witness the Russians killing innocent farmers for nothing more than being out past curfew. They didn't even listen to the farmer's _reasons_ for being out so late. The Russians would just shoot. They were obviously trigger happy.

I didn't speak Russian—obviously, so it was difficult to try to interpret what the Russians were saying. I would pick up some frequent words, though, like "killing" "guns" and "death".

It scared me, even though I knew they couldn't hurt me. I didn't understand how someone could enjoy killing human beings. Didn't they feel guilt? Did they even have emotions at all?

I was out of Russia in under three days; I hated it there.

* * *

France—Paris, to be exact— was beautiful in that twinkling kind of way. Everyone there was either in love, married, or on the path to eloping. It was nice to see how kind people were to each other when they cared about each other. Even though everyone in sight was so insanely ecstatic— there was this strange aura of fear around them. A tenseness always hung in the air.

I wanted to ask someone why they were scared, but I didn't speak French and they didn't speak English. Even if I did speak French, I wasn't sure I _wanted_ to know what had them so mortified. I'd rather remain clueless and wondering, instead of being like them: knowing and fearful.

* * *

London England was alright, I suppose. I could converse with people there, but they always discredited me; knowing I was from America. Everyone acted snobbish towards each other—and even me, a stranger. I didn't understand their customs.

It was quite obvious by how the English carried themselves, they thought they were "all that". And, perhaps—just a little—they _were _"all that". They had fancy clothing and perfectly styled hair. Their fans were state of the art, designs I hadn't even seen before. Everyone there owned cars, which seemed a little ridiculous to me. After all, everyone knew that cars were just play toys for the rich. They only existed for bragging.

* * *

I wasn't sure where to go next.

I wanted to go to Italy, but that just wasn't an option. I had been very careful of _avoiding_ Italy the past year. I simply couldn't risk a run in with the Volturi. The problem was Italy was the only place I wanted to go to now.

I knew there were dozens of beautiful other countries I could have chosen to obsess over; Spain, Turkey, Greece, Poland, Sweden, et cetera. But I conveniently chose the only country I could never enter.

Although, the Volturi didn't own the entire country, just Volterra. If I entered Italy and stayed away from Volterra . . . I should be good, right? It wasn't like they would even know I was there!

Or would they?

What if the Volturi hunted far away from their home? What if they caught my scent and decided to follow me? What if they killed me?

Killed me . . . killed me . . . isn't that what I had told Carlisle—that he should've let me die all of those years ago? Did I truly want to die? Was that why I wanted to go to Volterra so badly? So they could kill me?  
I realized then that it didn't matter if I lived or died. I had no one to live for. I had nothing to look forward to. It was just an eternity of loneliness. It didn't matter if I went to Italy and got caught or went to Italy under the radar.

I was going.

* * *

England was a long way off from Italy, especially since I was walking at a human pace. What was the rush? After Italy I had no idea what I was going to do with my eternity.

I wasn't sure where I was at the moment. Honestly, I wasn't sure if I would even notice when I made it to Italy.

It was a good feeling—not knowing.

Suddenly, in mid footstep, I froze—my joints frozen. My instincts were screaming at me that something was coming—no, something was already here.

I spun around just in time to see two shadowy figures approach me. Sniffing lightly I could tell they were both vampires. Large ones, at that. I was instantly intimidated.

As the vampires came closer and out of the darkness I got a good look at them. I could instantly tell they were from the Volturi. Then and there I knew I had messed up. I should have never come to Europe. Carlisle was right to keep us away from here.

I was confused at how they had found me, though. I was almost certain I hadn't reached Italy yet.

"Well, well," the smaller of the two sneered. "You look a little lost."

My eyes widened. "Lost? No. I'm fine."

The second vampire stepped forward and I could almost feel my dead, cold heart melt. I had never seen a man truly beautiful before, but he was. This man was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. But at the same time he was the scariest thing I'd ever seen.

For one thing, he was at least a foot and a half taller than me. He was the burliest man just about ever! Taking out his enormous size and obvious strength—there was this murderous gleam in his eyes.

He didn't speak, but he made his intentions known.

"Felix," the smaller of the two scolded. "You're scaring her! Look, she's trembling . . . and I highly doubt it's from the weather!"

The ends of Felix's lips twitched up sadistically into a small smirk. Somehow Felix smiling was even more disturbing than his scowls.

Desperately, I told them, "I don't want trouble. Just leave me alone."

The smaller one ignored me, walking closer. "Do you know what my power is?"

I didn't answer. I was too scared.

Then, unexpectedly, the smaller guard was behind me. His hand grabbed my hair and pulled so hard my head nearly tore off.

His voice was flat. "I _asked_ you a question."

I was so fearful in that moment and yet so shocked at how fast this had escalated.

When I didn't respond yet again, he punched me. I collapsed in a heap on the forest floor, holding my face in pain.

He came forward to hit me again when Felix grabbed his shoulder. Disapprovingly, Felix said, "Demetri, that's enough."

Demetri stared at him, agape. "What's your problem? Let's have a little fun with this one!"

Fun?

. . . What exactly did they plan to do to me?

"She's innocent," Felix hissed. "Let her go."

"Felix—" Demetri growled, picking me up by the hair again. I cried out in pain, my head was still tender from his first blow.

"I said let her go!" Felix roared, his eyes set aflame.

Demetri released me mutely and I almost sighed in relief. I scrambled into a standing position to face Felix—to either thank him or prepare myself for more surprises.

Instead, Felix wasn't staring at me at all. He was glaring at Demetri. "Go," Felix snarled and Demetri complied without another word.

We sat in silence for a few seconds, each of us making sure Demetri was definitely out of hearing range.

Realizing Demetri was truly gone, I said, "Why did you do that?"

"You know, usually people say thank you when you save their life," he told me valiantly.

"Alright," I agreed readily. "Thank you. Now—why did you help me?"

Felix rolled his eyes.

"Well?" I demanded.

"Honestly, you intrigue me," Felix admitted stubbornly. As an afterthought, he added, "And you don't deserve to die."

"Demetri disagrees," I replied shakily.

"Demetri," he spat the name out, "doesn't think before he acts."

"Really?" I asked, pretending to be surprised.

Felix looked over his shoulder to where his friend had disappeared. "I should go," he said.

My jaw dropped. "You're letting me go?"

He raised a brow, "You prefer death?"

I opened my mouth to snap something back, when I realized something—did I prefer death? I didn't know if Felix meant it as a serious question, but to me it was.

"I'll get back to you on that one when I know the answer for myself."

Felix looked confused, "What do you mean by that?"

"It means nothing," I lied. I didn't want him to know that I was depressed. "It's sort of like an inside joke."

"You share inside jokes with yourself?" I wasn't sure if he was mocking me.

"Who else will I share them with?"

He shrugged his overly broad shoulders.

"Well," I sighed as soon as the air turned tense and awkward. "I guess I had better let you get back to Demetri."

Felix looked hesitant to do so. "I'm not so sure that's a good idea."

"Why?" I wondered.

"He'll come after you," Felix explained.

I laughed darkly. "He won't be able to find me!"

Felix didn't join in on my laughter. In fact, he looked so seriously I immediately sobered up.

"He will always be able to find you."

"How?"

Felix was grim, "Demetri's a tracker."

"A tracker?" I had never heard the term before.

"Yes, that's his gift. Demetri can track anyone; that's how we found you." Felix sounded reluctant to admit this.

"Well, what do I do?" My voice was panicked. I knew Demetri could kill me easily. I was quite weak and spirits always distracted me from fights. I didn't want to die—at least not by the hands of Demetri.

Felix's voice was now cold, "Nothing. Do absolutely _nothing_." He hesitated. "You've done enough."

Bleakly, I hissed, "So I'm supposed to sit back and let him kill me?"

He sighed heavily, his beefy hand rubbing the bridge of his nose. "I'll try to steer him away from you."

"Will it work?" I asked.

Felix laughed loudly, stared me right in the eye, and said, "I can be scary when I want to be."

I believed him.

I nodded. "Alright, then."

Felix turned around to leave when he stiffened. He twisted back around. "What's your name?" he asked.

My jaw dropped at how utterly random this man was. "My name?"

"Yes," his voice held nothing but impatience.

"Addison," I replied, afraid of what he would do if I didn't tell him. I suppose, thinking back, I could have told him a fake name. But for some reason I didn't want to. I wanted him to know my real name.

Felix stared at me for a few seconds before nodding to himself. "I'm Felix," he told me proudly.

"I know."

He smiled and for once it didn't look creepy on him; it looked genuine. "I'll be seeing you, Addison."

Then Felix was gone before I could ask if he had either flirted or threatened me with that statement.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter eight

I saw Felix again sooner than I'd expected.

After my brief encounter with the Volturi guards I had run off to Russia, wanting to swim back to America. Europe wasn't as glamorous as I had always anticipated, in fact, it was _worse _than America.

I just wanted to go home. My problem was that I didn't know where home was. I couldn't go back to Nebraska and Carlisle probably hated me. I had nowhere to go. I had no one left.

My parents were most likely dead. And I had no living relatives.

Carlisle was happy without me. He had replaced me with Edward.

And just when I was about to give up Felix came. He showed up out of the blue, unannounced. If I remember correctly, he had stepped out from behind a tree.

"Why are you in Russia?" he asked.

I couldn't answer him, my mouth was open so wide all I could do was breathe oddly. Felix looked even more beautiful than before. I wasn't sure how it was even possible for someone to look as glorious as Felix did in that moment. Felix just did it—effortlessly.

"Russia?" I repeated dumbly, not sure if I had heard him right.

Felix nodded firmly.

I ignored his question. "Where's your cape?" I inquired.

"Why are you in Russia?" he countered. I could tell he was getting increasingly annoyed by my behavior.

I sighed, rolling my eyes in the process. I knew if I ever wanted him to answer my question, I had to answer his first. "I'm heading back to America," I told him.

"I left the Volturi."

_"What?"_

Felix stared at me like I was simple-minded. "You asked where my cape was. I left the Volturi. I had to hand my cape in."

My eyes were wide. I couldn't believe what he was saying! "You _left_ the Volturi? Why would you do that?"

It wasn't that I particularly liked the Volturi—I hated them, in fact. But being in the Volturi guard meant guaranteed safety . . . why would someone give that up? I could understand why Carlisle left—he didn't believe in their ways. But why would Felix? His eyes were still red, which meant he still drank from humans.

Felix laughed. His laugh sounded somewhat nervous to me. "The 'why' part isn't exactly important."

"I disagree with that insolent statement. I think _why_ you do something is the most important part of a decision."

Felix stared at me. I mean, _really_ stared at me. His red eyes were scrutinizing as he observed every inch of my face.

Even though I enjoyed Felix looking at me, I said, "What are you doing?"

"I'm trying to understand you."

I wanted to quirk my lips and snap a saucy, "Good luck with that!" but instead, I said, "Why did you leave the Volturi?"

I really did want to know. I guess I was trying to understand him, too.

His hypnotic eyes lightened slightly and Felix almost seemed to smile. "Do you really want to know?" he asked.

"Yes."

"I left for you," he said.

I stared at him. "You don't even know me."

Felix grinned, "I know."

"What is wrong with you?" I exclaimed, exasperated.

Was Felix being serious with me? Had he actually left the Volturi to find me? Or was he just messing with my head?

Felix's joking manor disappeared in under a second flat. He was now insightful and looked almost depressed. "Nothing is wrong with me, Addison. I want to travel with you."

His red eyes held an eternity of sadness and I easily realized then that Felix was much older than he appeared. Felix looked even older than Carlisle. Ancient. I wondered how hard it was to carry around ancient burdens.

I didn't ask him, though.

"You really want to travel with me?"

Felix's eyes lit up. "Is that a yes?"

I hesitated, weighing my options. What if this was a trick and Felix were to turn on me? Then again . . . what if Felix was a good person and I was judging him far too quickly?

"It's a yes."

I really hoped I wasn't going to regret saying that.

* * *

"You're ignorant."

"How am I ignorant?" Felix laughter echoed loudly in the abandoned forest. "All I did was prove you wrong—therefore, making _you_ the ignorant one."

"Oh, shut up!" I said, but by then I was laughing, too.

It was early January of 1920 and we had almost made it to the Alaskan/Russian border. Felix was eager to be in America, he had only been three or four times prior. When I had asked him why he went, he had explained, "Volturi business."

We had no plans once we reached Alaska, but it was better that way. Felix liked to live in the moment. Spontaneous, he called it; whereas I thought it foolish.

"So," Felix mused. "Tell me more about this Carlisle guy."

"What do you want to know?" I asked cautiously. I didn't exactly trust Felix yet and it was very hard for me to talk about Carlisle. I still felt guilty about the fight Carlisle and I had two years before. I wondered every single day how he was doing.

"Well . . ." Felix's brow furrowed. "He's the one that turned you, right?"

I nodded. "That's correct."

"Why were you turned?"

"Why?" I questioned. "What do you mean by that?"

Felix hesitated. "Usually humans are very seriously injured before their change. Were you about to," he flinched, "you know . . ."

"Die?" I supplied.

He nodded.

"You're asking what I was dying of?" I was still confused. Why did he care?

Felix's voice was softer than before, "I guess I'm asking if someone purposely tried to . . . kill you."

"Murder?" I was alarmed. "No. I had a fatal disease, Carlisle was my doctor."

"Carlisle's a doctor?" the tense air lifted as Felix again started to guffaw. I wasn't sure why he found the fact that Carlisle helped people so amusing.

"How is that funny?" I demanded, instantly growing protective of my far-away father.

"A vampire is a doctor," Felix managed to get out between snorts. "I cannot believe this! I knew you hunted animals, but to this extent?"

Changing the subject, I glared, "We need to talk about that: hunting animals. If you're going to travel with me I expect you to not kill humans."

Like a light switch being turned on, Felix immediately stopped laughing. His features turned dark and he walked closer to me threateningly.

"You're acting like a tonkel!" he accused.

I was surprised by his sudden mood change and I knew I shouldn't be dragged into his petty rage, but I simply couldn't help myself. I didn't react well when I was being yelled at.

"_I'm_ acting like a tonkel? How? By asking you to not murder innocent people?" I couldn't believe what I was hearing. I had thought Felix was better than this.

Felix stared at me. "Innocent people? No one is innocent."

"What's that supposed to mean?" I protested.

"Every one commits some sort of sin in their life!" Felix exclaimed. "I'll bet even you—God sent herself—killed a human!"

I wanted to snap something at him—defend myself, but I couldn't. I was paralyzed by his words. Shocked. Depressed. Guilty . . . I hadn't thought about the little girl I had killed in years. How could I have been so selfish?

We didn't talk for a while after that.

* * *

Felix and I fought all of the time, but we were never actually mad at each other. It was almost like a playful banter. We butted heads on almost all of our ideals. Despite our constant fighting, we had good times, too.

Like the time I had told him my full name;

"Your middle name is Jane?" he was on the ground in laughter.

I bristled. "What's so wrong with that? I think it's pretty."

Felix picked himself up. "There's nothing exactly _wrong_ with the name. It's just that I knew a girl once named Jane." He smiled, "You're nothing like her."

Self-consciously, I demanded, "Is that a bad thing? That I'm not like her?"

"It's not a bad thing, Addison Jane. I hated her. And I don't hate you."

After that 'Addison Jane' was the only thing he called me.

Felix did other things, too. Like whenever I'd ask Felix a question, he would twist it around in a weird way.

For example;

"Do you really think we'll live forever?" I had once asked him.

"I'm not sure," he replied. "Time is a strange concept."

"How so?"

"To humans, forever could be a lifetime or a few minutes. There's thousands of different types of forever out there—I'm not sure which one you're referring to."

"I'm referring to—"

Felix cut me off, "Let me guess . . . you mean forever and always. The—centuries and millennia's that will pass which will never amount to your forever."

I could only nod.

"See, that's the thing," he said. "Everyone dies. Even us—eventually, that is."

Felix sometimes scared me with his thoughts. He thought about death more than I did, which was saying something—judging from the fact that I see the dead.

It seemed Felix was always messing with my head, getting me to do insane things I would have never done before. But in a way I was thankful he got me to do these things. I lived a little more when I was with Felix.

It made me wonder how I had ever gotten by without him before.

I had only known him for three months and I loved him. It wasn't the way I loved Carlisle. It was different somehow—stronger—better. Felix never said it out loud, but I knew he loved me, too.

We were happy. So stupidly happy together. And I adored every single moment of it.

We had made it to America a long time ago. Though, America was different now. More industrial. Bigger somehow . . . and not just in size. Everyone was richer than before and tons more arrogant.

Felix was convinced we should do the world a favor and kill off all Americans. I knew he would do it, too. Felix wasn't all talk—he did what he said he would.

I remember saying, "America is the world—if you destroy America, you destroy everything."

I wasn't sure if I truly meant that, though.

Felix still wouldn't drink from animals. He said, and I quote, "I'd rather have a stampede of rhinos take a bowl movement in my mouth than drink from an animal."

I hated watching him hunt, but I always insisted I go with him. I trusted him, but not alone at night in a dark alleyway. Knowing Felix, he'd just kill whoever he saw for no reason.

_Someone _had to be the responsible one—and unfortunately the responsible one was always me.

Felix liked to hunt female adolescents—girls who were around my age when I had changed. Felix had too much fun luring them to him—killing them. He always smiled when he ripped their throats out.

He had a serious problem.

One day I had tried to guilt him, "They're just children." I'd said.

"We all were all children once."

Angrily, I snapped, "If we were with Carlisle, he would never let you do these horrible things!"

Felix laughed darkly, "But we aren't with Carlisle. I can do whatever I want, Addison Jane. It's _my_ eternity."

And so that was when I seriously considered finding Carlisle—joining him again. Carlisle would be able to tame Felix. He'd show him drinking from humans was wrong.

I tried to imagine Felix with golden eyes. And, boy, did he look dapper!

That was it, then; it had been decided. I had to reunite myself with Carlisle to save Felix from himself.

Columbus, Ohio.

Columbus.

That's where Carlisle said he would be.

"Felix," I said.

"Yes?"

"Have you ever been to Ohio?"

"No. Why?" he was instantly suspicious, knowing I had a scheme.

"I have a friend there I think you would absolutely _love_ to meet."


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter nine

To my complete and utter surprise, Felix was on-board with going to Ohio. "A change of scenery," he had told me once he saw my curious expression.

I was glad he wasn't going to fight me on this decision, like he did on so many other matters. Felix really was a difficult person to deal with.

We packed up our small amount of possessions and then we were on the road. Ohio was a long way from New York City and I wanted to get to Columbus as fast as possible. I missed Carlisle like crazy and I was curious to see how Edward had turned out.

Though, while we were traveling I realized I didn't actually know Felix. Sure, he had told me his favorite color was green and that he liked crescent moons more than full moons, but I didn't _actually_ know him.

I didn't know where he came from or how old he was or why he had joined the Volturi in the first place. He was a stranger, but he knew everything about me. How had I not noticed before that Felix had never given me any serious information about himself?

"So what's your story?" I asked, unable to take it any longer.

"Huh?"

"Your story," I pressed. "I told you mine and now I deserve to hear yours." I really hoped I sounded threatening. Felix and Carlisle both had told me many times I was too nice for my own good.

"What?" he snorted, his eyes mirthful, "Like where I'm from?"

"The setting is only a small part of a story. And I'd like to hear _all_ of yours. It's only fair." I lifted my chin up.

Felix was wistful. "Why do you care?"

"I want to know you."

"You already know me."

"No," I argued. "I don't know you—I don't know the whole story."

"Why does it matter?" he asked. "The past is the past. I cannot change what happened."

"The past defines you," I quipped. "The past makes you who you are today. I would like to know who you used to be."

Felix stared at me. "You're a strange one, Addison Jane." He sighed, "But, I _suppose_ if you really want to know . . . I'll tell you."

"Yes!" I exclaimed. "I really would like to know."

He rolled his eyes, but said, "I don't remember much of my human life. Hey, don't give me that look! It's the truth. I know I had a little sister and brother, but that's mostly it. It was such a long time ago . . ."

Felix drifted off, his eyes far away in a different time. "I think our parents were dead—that or they weren't around. I was the one who supported us—I hated doing it. I don't think I even liked my siblings that much."

I scoffed quietly.

Felix shot me a dark glare—it lasted a few seconds before he realized just how harsh his gaze really was. Felix continued, "For my . . . job—I guess you could call it—I would fight people on the streets."

"What?"

Felix rolled his eyes. "Things were different back then. Murder and violence were the biggest gain. If you were a murderer, you were a hero."

It all made sense now. That was why he liked killing . . . he thought it made him a hero.

He sighed sadly, "One night while I was out fighting I got cocky. Every guy was smaller than I was and I thought that made them worse than me—at killing. But it didn't. This one kid, he was at least five years younger than me and two feet shorter, beat me—beat me until the brink of death. Everyone had left the fight by then, even the kid. They knew I had lost. I was about to die when I saw these eyes. They were unlike anything I had ever seen before—red. And then the pain started."

I flinched, remembering my own change.

"When I woke as I vampire, I realized the man who had changed me was Aro. He invited me to join his guard and I complied. I didn't know what else to do. I was young and . . . so very foolish." Felix closed his eyes.

"How old are you?" I asked quietly, not wanting to interrupt his emotional moment. A person like Felix never lets their emotions get the better of them. Felix had probably never felt anything since he was a human.

"I was changed in 100 B.C. That makes me . . ." he hesitated, silently doing the math. "Old."

My eyes widened, "That's around two thousand years old!"

He shrugged, "After a while you stop counting the years." Felix winked at me, "It gets boring."

"How old are you physically?" I inquired, quirking a brow.

"Twenty-two, I think," he shrugged. "Why?"

"Just wondering," I whispered, figuring out our physical age difference. Seven years. Feeling like he should know how old I physically was, I said, "I'm fifteen."

Felix said nothing. He didn't react much to my statement at all. I liked to think that our age difference didn't matter to him.

"What was it like back then?" I asked. "When you were human."

"Oh, you know," he waved his arms. "Empires gaining power and then losing it, death, plagues, all the fun stuff."

"Yes," my voice was airy. I still couldn't believe how old he was. "The fun stuff."

Felix glanced over at me. "Are you alright?"

"Why wouldn't I be?"

Felix walked closer to me, his very large and strong hand reached down to lightly touch my cheek. I was all too aware of how close he was to me. His red eyes looked into my gold ones and neither of us talked for a few minutes—we didn't have to. I was slightly surprised at how intimate our conversation had become. But it was a good kind of surprised.

Then, finally, Felix said, "If eyes could breathe—yours would be breathless."

"Is that a metaphor?" I whispered.

"Who knows?" he asked.

I smiled, "You shouldn't answer a question with another question. It isn't proper, Felix."

"I apologize," he said. But he didn't look sorry.

We stared at each other for a few more seconds. I couldn't believe how red his eyes were . . . but now, looking into them—I saw more than just blood. I saw him. I _really_ saw him.

Then he kissed me.

It felt like I was going through the transformation all over again but with no pain this time. I could see better and hear better—everything was just _better_ when I was kissing Felix.

Our kiss was soft at first, meaningful, passionate. Our lips moved together perfectly. But then his arms wrapped around my waist and the kiss turned urgent and more sexual. Our hands were knotted in each other's hair as we kept trying to get closer to each other when we were as close as we could get. It never felt close enough.

It felt like there was nothing else in that moment—it was just him and I. There were no mind games. There were no dead humans. There was no vampirism. We were just two people—together.

That was—hands down— the happiest moment of my life.

Felix pulled away, his eyes never leaving mine. It was embarrassing how short I was next to him. He had to lift me up just so our lips would meet.

Neither of us said anything, not wanting to break the fantastic moment we had created together.

Then, Felix said, "I think I love you Addison Jane."

My eyes filled with tears—tears of elation. "I've loved you for so long," I replied.

Not that long, my inner monologue laughed. Only a few months.

Yes, I agreed. But every day with him feels like an eternity. In a way I've loved him for forever.

"Oh, Addison Jane . . . you have left me so very smitten," Felix said, his eyes bearing into mine with an intense devotion.

"The feeling is mutual," I told him, not knowing what else to say. I couldn't put into words how I felt for him.

"This is so odd to me," Felix admitted. "I've never cared about anything before. The feeling is so . . . foreign."

"I know how you feel. Eventually you get used to it." I smiled, "You should embrace it, Felix. It can make you feel so very good."

He looked uncomfortable. "I suppose I can get used to feeling like this—only for you, though." Felix smiled— he had a really nice smile and it was only rare times like these he showed it.

"That's sweet," I told him, then added, smiling inwardly, "You've gone soft."

Felix's smile was gone in an instant. "No."

And the moment was ruined—just like that.

I hadn't realized the underlying message between my words until it was too late. Telling Felix he had gone soft would be the ultimate insult to him. Felix had gone for centuries without caring about anything—and then once he finally had found someone to care for I ruined it.

But didn't he understand I was only joking?

"Felix . . ." I said softly. "I'm sorry."

He turned away from me. "It's alright, Addison. Just give me a minute."

I wanted to cry. Felix had called me _Addison_, not Addison Jane or Addie like he usually did. That meant he was seriously angry with me.

"Let's just talk it out," I offered. "You'll feel better once you . . ."

I trailed off, unable to finish my sentence—Felix's glare was too harsh. His lips curled and he crouched, preparing to lunge. "Leave me alone!" he snarled.

But I didn't leave. I couldn't. I couldn't leave him like this—I couldn't leave with this bad blood between us.

"I won't leave you," I told him firmly.

Felix had grit his teeth, a desperate emotion in his eyes. "Addison, get away from me. Please . . ."

My lips wobbled as I held back a sob.

How had things turned so horrible so quickly?

Wanting him to know just how sorry I was, I reached my hand out and grabbed his forearm. Touching him was apparently the wrong move . . . because soon after our skin connected Felix tackled me to the ground and we slammed into a large tree, causing it to tumble down.

I cried out in pain, Felix had pushed me _very _hard.

Felix had once told me that he didn't exactly have a gift, but if he did it would be brute strength.

"How strong _are_ you?" I had asked.

He replied cockily, "The strongest vampire in existence."

Yes, well now I was feeling just how strong he really was.

A hand grabbed my neck, pulling it upwards. It was then I heard a harsh ripping sound cut through the air. It's the sound of your head detaching, I told myself in a frenzy. I tried to fight the hand off, but it was far too strong for me.

"Please!" I screamed. "Please—"

Please . . . what?

Please don't kill me?

Please stop?

Please help me?

I didn't know.

The pressure on my neck stopped all of a sudden, the hands retreating. I fell to the ground gasping, my hands reaching for my neck—feeling for a cut or mark that I could tend to. There was nothing. My skin was perfect—as vampire skin always is.

"Addison . . . Oh, Addison Jane!" Felix rushed to my side, his hands lightly touching my shoulders. I flinched away from his touch, remembering where his hands had been a few seconds ago.

Felix's expression was heartbreaking. Anguish and dejection shone in his eyes. "Addi—"

"No!" I cut him off. I held my hands up in sorrow, "Just stop."

"But—"

I jumped up from the ground. My clothes were torn and covered in mud by then—they were ruined. "I don't understand," I told him. "I—I'm trying to, but I don't see how it could make any sense." Felix opened his mouth to reply, but I kept going, "You see, in my book, when you say you love someone you don't attack them. You don't hurt the ones you love."

Felix clenched and unclenched his jaw multiple times, trying to calm himself down enough to speak. As he did this, I stared at him, unimpressed. I was tired of the stalling. I wanted the truth.

I knew I had upset him with my comment about him going soft, but how could he have taken it so seriously? How could Felix actually hurt me like that?

"Well?" I said impatiently.

Felix sat down on the ground, his eyes glassy. I couldn't believe how sad he looked in that moment . . . it made me forget all he had done to me. I just wanted to hug him—tell him everything was alright.

His voice was uncharacteristically quiet, "I have problems with my anger."

"You don't say!" I snapped sarcastically.

Felix went on, as if I hadn't spoken at all. "I'm surprised I lasted as long as I did. Usually I would have killed you instantly." Thoughtfully, Felix added, "I must really love you."

My eyes bulged. "Love? Love? You cannot honestly expect for me to buy that!"

"Buy what?" his eyes narrowed. "The truth?"

"Not when it's a stupid truth."

"I don't usually have allot of social contact. I like to keep to myself. Yes, I've had sex before and fooled around a bit," my heart dropped, "but it's different when I'm with someone that actually means something to me."

I pretended to ignore that I hadn't heard that he wasn't a virgin like I was. "So . . . what? I'm supposed to never talk to you?"

His eyes widened, "No!"

"What if I say the wrong thing, though? Say the wrong thing—and you attack me again. Or worse, kill me." I shook my head, "I'm not sure what you expect for me to do."

Felix stood up from the ground and he was instantly beside me. "I'll get better," he promised. "I'll never attack you again."

"Never is a strong word," I told him. "Don't use it out of context."

He closed his eyes, but not before I saw a strong tinge of agony rip through them. "Addison Jane," he said. "Please, please trust me."  
I had never seen Felix look so vulnerable before. I was certain under other circumstances I might have laughed at him—a giant of a man looking like he might cry.

"I do trust you," I said. "That's the problem."

Felix frowned, his eyes shining with sincerity. "I'm sorry. You'll never know how sorry I am."

I nodded lightly. I suppose I understood how it could be hard to control your emotions. When I was a newborn my emotions were all over the place—I'd be laughing at something Carlisle said and then trying to kill him three seconds later.

Vampire emotions were a _lot_ different than human emotions.

"As the good book says," I whispered, holding my hand out for him to take, "'Forgive and forget'."

Felix took my hand, but he was still frowning. "It isn't that I don't want your forgiveness . . . but to forgive someone that quickly? Are you always like this?"

"I try to be."

I wanted our sad conversation to end. I wanted the sorrowful look in Felix's eyes to disappear into the apathetic one he had when we first met. I wanted us to kiss again. I wanted things to stop being so complicated—so hard. But most of all I just wanted to be happy.

Was that too much to ask?

Felix and I didn't talk for a while, both of us sick and tired of the sober mood. Plus, Felix was a suffer-in-silence kind of person. He never did talk much, even to me.

Even so, I wanted the awkward and uncomfortable atmosphere to dissolve. I wanted our silences to be blissful and loving like before. I wanted Felix to say some stupid comment that would lift the weight off of us. Something like "So—that happened . . ." or "Let's race right here right now or are you scared I'll beat you?"

But the awkwardness didn't lift because Felix didn't say anything. We kept walking in silence.

After a few hours Felix turned to me suddenly and demanded gruffly, "Do you smell that?"

I raised my head up, sniffing heavily. After a few moments I caught whiff of a distinctly human smell.

"Yes," I told him. "We must be close to a town."

"Hopefully. We've been in the woods for ages."

"Should we follow the scent?" I asked.

"Sounds like a good idea." Felix explained, "The scent probably leads to the town."

"Let's go." I said.

We started running at our full speed, following—tracking the scent.

My favorite thing about running is that you couldn't exactly talk. You can hear any and everything, but never talk.

* * *

We found the town after an hour. It was an old place, covered in stones and wood. Very few people were outside, it was snowing and the wind blew like the true gale it knew it was.

Felix and I walked closely together. Even though we were technically still fighting with each other, we always banded together. Of the few townspeople that were outside, all were glaring daggers at us—Felix was glaring right back. I kept my hand in Felix's the whole time, making sure he wouldn't let his anger get the best of him.

Due to our enhanced vampire senses we involuntarily heard every wretched thing the townspeople gossiped about us.

"They look like trouble," two men—drunks, I was guessing—were telling each other.

"Where is that girl's mother? Just look at how she's dressing! She looks like a street whore!" a middle-aged woman snapped off to a girl, probably her own daughter.

Looking down at myself I wondered how I looked like a whore. I was covered head to toe in snow gear. Were they calling me these names because I was pretty, therefore making them jealous?

"The man looks like he'll snap all our necks," a boy who looked two or three years older than me told his friend.

"No," his friend replied. "I bet I could take him."

Felix snorted at this.

Seeing a bar that was open, I turned to Felix, "Wait out here." Looking around at the townspeople, I added, "And don't kill anyone."

He rolled his eyes. "Will do."

I entered the bar with my head lowered, not wanting to draw out any unwanted attention. A bell dinged lightly as the door closed behind me, causing an elderly man to look over at me with squinted eyes. The man was covered in wrinkles and I was willing to bet that I was born before him.

I walked—perhaps too quickly—over to the bartender. "Excuse me, sir," I said quietly. "Can you tell me what town this is?"

The bartender's eyes widened as he saw me, his jaw dropping nearly to the floor. He ignored my question and instead flirted, "Would you like a drink, miss?"

"No," I set my jaw and glared at him the way Felix taught me to. "I would like for you to tell me what town I'm in."

The bartender scoffed and muttered, "Bitch," under his breath, before saying, louder, "Mills, Ohio."

"Alright, and how far away is Columbus?"

His eyebrows raised, "Columbus is a long ways away from here." The bartender smirked, "Are you travelling alone, miss? I would be happy to personally escort you to Columbus."

Faster than the human eye could register, Felix appeared beside me, snarling at the man. "She's traveling with me."

Felix stood at his gigantic height, glaring down at the bartender with his ruby eyes. Felix obviously horrified the bartender—his heartbeat picked up into an outrageous speed. I thought he might have a heart attack if it didn't slow.

I quirked an eyebrow at Felix, "I thought I told you to wait outside?"

"You did." Felix's glare at the bartender intensified. "But obviously you need me in here."

I threw my hands in the air, exasperated by his violent nature. "Fine, Felix! Just find out where Columbus is. I'll be outside."

I walked past the elderly man on the way out—he was still staring at me. I pretended to shiver as the air hit me, in case any townspeople were observing me still. I walked over to a nearby tree and sat down in the snow. I didn't care how ridiculous I looked.

I looked up as the door to the bar opened and the elderly man stepped out. His eyes traveled around for a few moments until they landed on me. The elderly man smiled widely and walked over to me, trembling slightly in the cold.

"Hello," I said as he approached me.

"Hello!" he replied cheerily. The elderly man stuck his hand out. "My name is Oliver Williams."

I shook his hand. "Addison. Addison . . ." When I was with Carlisle I had used his last name because I couldn't remember my own, but now that I wasn't traveling with him anymore I didn't exactly have a last name. "Cullen."

"Well, I'm sorry to interrupt you Addison, but I noticed something in there," he pointed toward the bar, "and I have to tell you in case you didn't notice it yourself."

My brow furrowed. "Alright . . ."

"That man that came in after you—I believe you called him Felix?" Oliver asked me and I nodded in confirmation. I was surprised at how good his hearing was in his old age. "He loves you."

My eyes widened at his bluntness.

Oliver continued, "I saw it right dead in his eyes—that's the only place you can see love, you know."

"Well—"

"I see in your eyes that you love him right back," Oliver said. "And I was just wondering—as all old, loveless men do—why you aren't with that man? You mustn't waste time on all of the pointless things that keep you away from each other. Eventually you get old and then you feel the regret of what you could have done when you were younger."

"Why are you telling me this?" I asked. I didn't even know this man and he was helping me with my love life.

"You're a nice girl," he said, "A good girl. I can tell. And you deserve so much happiness."

I didn't know what to say.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome, Addison," Oliver beamed. He looked over his shoulder at the bar, his face was scrunched up with worry. "You should get Felix out of there."

Oliver walked—scurried—away.

I stood there, reflecting on what had just happened. And then I froze, the last thing Oliver said floating through my brain.

_You should get Felix out of there._

I jumped up and ran inside the bar as fast as I could. But it wasn't fast enough.

Felix stood in the middle of the room, his face covered in blood. Everyone was dead. The kills were clean and precise and I had to give Felix props at how quick he had been.

They hadn't even had a chance to scream.

* * *

**I really don't like this chapter..I'm not sure why. **

**By the way, I completely made up Felix's back story. I don't know how old he is. Roll with it x-).**

**Thoughts?**

**Next chapter is the reunion.**

**-Lauren**


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter ten

"Dear God!" I hissed. "What is your problem, Felix?"

Felix didn't reply—he just started to lick his lips.

I knew if I was human I'd be vomiting until my throat burned. I murmured, "Felix, did you at _least_ get directions to Columbus?"

"Of course I did!" he snapped.

"Okay," I whispered, not wanting to fight with him.

I couldn't believe how calm I was being about how he had just murdered twenty-some people. I think it was because I was used to him. This kind of stuff happened every other day with Felix.

"Are you ready to go?" I asked. I looked over at the bartender who had been harassing me just minutes prior. His mouth was stuck in the position of an endless scream he would never get to let out. It was poetic to me in some ways.

"I've been ready," Felix said, walking past me and out the bar door. "I hate this town."

I followed him outside, looking around cautiously. Two townspeople were standing directly across the street from us, their mouths hanging open in horror as they took in Felix's bloody condition.

Felix noticed them, too. He laughed, "Want me to take care of them?"

"No!" I gasped, I was extremely upset and offended by his words. "Let's just go. You lead since you know where to go."

Felix rolled his eyes, "The guy didn't tell me exactly where to go—he just said Columbus was northwest of here."

"That's helpful," I scowled.

Felix shrugged, "Nothing we can do now."

"Let's just go."

A scream erupted from one of the townspeople as they realized what had just transpired in the town bar.

"Let's go _now_," I urged.

Felix nodded and we were a millisecond off from sprinting far away from this town when the people that had died in the bar caught up with me.

"He killed us and you let him!"

"Demon!"

"Satan!"

"Bitch."

"Who let you in this town?"

"It's your fault!"

I didn't recognize any of the voices . . . except for one;

"You're both _evil_."

That was the bartender.

My head was spinning as the ghosts screamed at me. I was surprised I was still standing. I felt like I was going to pass out—I always felt like that when ghosts were around. I knew it was impossible for vampires to faint . . . but I still felt like I could.

"Addison?" Felix asked anxiously. I flinched. His voice added to my headache.

"Addison, we have to move!"

"I—can't," I managed to gasp out.

"Why?" he demanded. "What's going on?"

I hadn't told Felix about my gift yet. I didn't know why. Maybe it was because he was ex-Volturi or maybe it was because I could never predict his reaction. Anyways, if I told him now he would be very offended that I hadn't told him before, which would lead to a fight.

And I couldn't handle a fight.

Not with all of these voices yelling at me.

"What's going on?" Felix repeated, his voice sharper than before.

"Get out of our town!"

"Murderer!"

"Alright, then," Felix muttered to himself.

Gravity switched out on me as I felt Felix pick me up. My hair swished down Felix's back as my cheek rested on his shoulder blade. To be frank, I hardly felt any of it. I was too numb.

It always felt like this after a large amount of people died. I didn't have my own thoughts or emotions—my body was clogged with the emotions of the deceased. It made me numb. I had nothing to feel. There was nothing left.

Felix started running and I could hear in the background the townspeople screaming profanities at us. I watched as Mills Ohio became nothing but a blur—a speck of dust left behind in our trail.

It was strange. Felix and I would probably never think twice of Mills again, deducing it just another massacre on Felix's part. But I was sure that Mills would never forget us.

Never.

"You could have stopped him—or at least tried to."

"I have a girlfriend! I was going to propose!"

"I will never get to see my wife and kids again . . ."

Felix all of a sudden stopped running and set me down on the ground. When I looked at him in question, he said, "We're far enough from the town. They won't get us." Felix stared at me, "What's going on?"

"Nothing!" I said far too quickly.

Felix sighed. "Don't lie to me," my head pounded, "Please, just talk to me. I want you to . . ."

He said a bunch of other things, but I didn't hear him anymore. The ghosts were too loud and my head hurt more than my heart. Each word Felix yammered was another stab to my chest.

I screamed, "Just be quiet! For once, Felix! Shut up!"

Felix was shocked into silence, his blood covered mouth falling open slightly. I was slightly surprised by my outburst, too. I hadn't yelled at Felix in a very long time. Though, I was more angry than surprised.

Did Felix know exactly how much he was making my head hurt?

"Addi—"

I launched myself at him. I knew it was the only thing that would make him be quiet—a fight. I was hoping I could keep him busy enough in the fight that he wouldn't be able to talk, but it didn't go down like that.

Felix caught me in the middle of my lunge and his hands grasped onto my forearms like a vise. Felix held me at least five feet off the ground, glaring at me.

"Uh, oh," the bartenders voice rang in my ear.

Then all the ghosts were laughing at me.

I ignored them, instead choosing to glower at Felix with a burning intensity. "Don't you get it?" I cried.

"Get what?" he hissed, giving me a black look.

"I _see _them! I see all of them!"

Felix's glare turned into an incredulous look as he stared me down. "What the hell are you talking about?"

I clawed at his arms, trying to free myself from his iron grasp. "Let me go!"

"What do you mean?" he yelled. "What's wrong with you?"

_What's wrong with you?_

What _was_ wrong with me?

What if everyone was wrong about my gift? What if it wasn't a gift at all, but instead a curse? What happened then?

"Nothing is wrong with me!" I screeched.

"Don't lie to him, sweetheart," one of the ghosts hissed.

"Yep," another piped up. "He's a real keeper."

Felix's grip on my arms loosened, but not to the extent of where I could possibly free myself. Felix lowered himself to the ground, involuntarily taking me with him.

I hardly heard myself murmur, "They won't stop talking. They _never_ stop talking. I just want them to stop. Why won't they stop?"

I sounded insane—even to myself.

"What's happening?" Felix asked, glancing around suspiciously—almost like he was trying to find someone.

"You can't see them," I said.

"But we can see you!" a ghost cackled.

I fought the urge to shiver. I didn't know why ghosts scared me so much sometimes—it wasn't like they could kill me. They couldn't even touch me. So what justified my reasoning behind being absolutely mortified by each and every one of them?

"See whom?" Felix pressed.

All of the ghosts laughed together in perfect symphony.

"Them." I whispered, my eyes watering.

Felix laughed. He actually laughed in my face! "I didn't know vampires could go crazy, but it appears you have."

"I'm not crazy!" I snapped.

"Then—"

"I see the dead! That's my gift." My mouth opened and blurted out the truth before I could comprehend the consequences behind this action.

Felix stared at me blankly. Even though he was hiding his expression, I saw in his eyes how angry and hurt he was. "Why didn't you tell me sooner?" he asked.

Tenderly, I mumbled, "It was never the right moment."

"This is unbelievable. You're unbelievable."

I was sure some people could take 'unbelievable' as a compliment. But I didn't—not with the way Felix was saying it. It was meant to be a sardonic insult.

The ghosts were all quiet now, most likely watching the exchange between Felix and I as they giggled to themselves. I hated them in that moment. I hated all of them. When you died you were supposed to disappear—leave this world. People weren't supposed to _stay_ as ghosts. With them, the dead never really stayed dead.

"I'm not sorry for what I've done," I said.

Felix didn't respond. His gaze had long since shifted away from me and landed onto the ground in front of him. Felix's jaw was clenched tightly, letting me know that he was holding back some harsh words.

The fight drained out of me and left me feeling weak and tired. I wanted to sob until I fell asleep. But I could do neither of those things.

I shifted my weight from foot to foot nervously. Felix wasn't usually this quiet for so long. "Felix?" I whispered. "Talk to me."

He didn't. He just sat there and stared at nothing.

"Why won't you look at me?"

Again, Felix didn't respond.

"You're acting like a child!" I accused. "You'll have to talk to me eventually. I don't see why you're dragging it out."

Felix laughed but it wasn't a happy sound. It was one of those gut-wrenching noises that makes you feel faint. His laugh was heartbreaking. "That's hilarious," he deadpanned. "Coming from _you_."

My eyes widened as I took offense. "Well, what's that supposed to mean?"

Felix only shook his head, chuckling darkly to himself. "Unbelievable," he muttered quietly. It was so silent I was surprised I had heard it. Felix said, "Right here, in this moment, you're acting just like Aro. You even have that same liars look in your eyes. You're a spitting image of him, actually."

I felt like laying down on the ground and dying right then and there. That was the greatest insult anyone could ever say to me. Felix had told me all about Aro . . . his secrets. He told me how Aro used, deceived, and killed people like it was nothing.

I hardly managed to mutter, "That's a horrible thing to say."

Felix scoffed, "I cannot believe you've lied to me for so long. I've told you everything and you hid something this big from me? I thought you were better than that."

"Stop," I commanded weakly.

Felix kept going, almost as if he hadn't heard me—which I knew he had, "You always tell me I'm a bad person to kill humans. You say I'm going to hell and that God will never forgive me for my sins. But look at you, little miss perfect is a sinner. I honestly—"

"Don't you dare compare lying to murder!" I cried. Felix opened his big mouth to snap something, but I kept going. "You know, every time you kill someone _I_ have to live with it. _I _have to live with _your_ kills and _your_ mistakes. Do you even know what it's like? To have so many people scream at you? Have them blame you for something that wasn't even your fault?"

Felix's face was crestfallen. "That's why you want me to hunt animals?"

"Why else?" I exploded. "Do you think I _like_ having people yell at me until I feel suicidal?"

"How was I supposed to know?" he bellowed.

I swallowed heavily, trying to calm myself down. "I understand now. I should have told you sooner."

Felix turned away from me as he stood up. "I don't want to fight anymore," he said. His voice was tired. "Let's just get to Columbus."

I turned my eyes downcast as I realized the hidden meaning behind his words;

_I don't want to talk to you. _

"Alright. Let's go."

* * *

Four hours passed between us in silence. I knew Felix was apologetic about fighting, I was, too, but Felix was too stubborn to say he was sorry out loud. He didn't want to be the weak one.

But I was not going to apologize. I had nothing to be sorry for. Well, yes, I was sorry we had fought, but not about the reason for our fighting. Why should I be sorry that I hadn't told him about my gift? It was my secret. I had a right to keep it.

The silence was overbearing, though. Things hadn't been right between us since he had attacked me after we kissed and I wanted things to go back to how they used to be.

Maybe Carlisle can help, I told myself optimistically.

Then again . . . who's to say Carlisle will even want to speak with me? After all, it's been two years.

He's probably moved on.

A while ago we had seen a river and decided to walk upstream, see where the river took us. I wanted very much so to wash myself in the river; my clothes were still torn from the attack and there were some blood stains from the humans Felix killed.

I was going to ask Felix if we could stop and swim in the river, but then I realized we weren't talking. Sometimes Felix could be so childish.

The ghosts had left me alone. They either were bored with me or pitied me.

Their loss.

After another thirty minutes of following the river we spotted a road. And so, without a word we climbed onto the road and there was the sign:

_Columbus, Ohio_

_Pop. 237031_

I almost let out a string of profanities. How on Earth was I supposed to find Carlisle in such a big city?

I ignored the problem as I continued the trek into the city, walking on the edge of the road. Felix easily caught up with me, although I think he was slightly surprised that we weren't traveling in the woods anymore.

Above a tree I could spot a few glimmering lights, telling me we were close to the zealous city of Columbus. I couldn't believe it. When I had been here before with Carlisle in the 1910s the city had looked very different.

Things do change, I reminded myself.

"Are you ready?" Felix asked me and I was mildly surprised he had broken the silence. Then again, I knew he would fold. He always did when it came to me.

"I don't think I'll ever be ready."

I watched as Felix eyed me carefully. He knew I was upset. "We don't have to do this, you know. Your friend can wait."

Knowing he'd figure it out sooner or later, I said, "It's not just a friend. It's Carlisle."

"Carlisle?" his eyebrows raised. "Why didn't you tell me?"

'Why didn't you tell me?' seemed like the question of the day.

"I don't know," I admitted. "I think it's because I wanted to surprise you."

"Congratulations, I'm surprised." He sounded slightly angry.

I sighed, "We can fight later, Felix. Right now I just want to find Carlisle."

Felix didn't respond.

I rolled my eyes and kept walking.

"You know what I don't understand?" Felix finally said.

"What?"

"I don't understand why you don't trust me."

I frowned. "I trust you, Felix."

"Lying to me contradicts that statement," he snapped.

I should've known that was a trap.

We reached the city in under five long, stressful minutes. The layout was the same as before, but the buildings were different—bigger. I missed how Columbus used to look—small, but quaint and pretty.

"So how are we supposed to find Carlisle?" Felix asked.

"I'm not sure," I replied. "Maybe we could look for his scent? Or search him up in a directory?"

"We should look for his scent." Felix said. "In fact, let's split up—cover more ground, you know?"

"That depends . . ." I hesitated. "Are you going to kill anyone?"

"_No_. I'm not thirsty." He scowled. "The amount of trust you have in me is insulting.

"It's not a matter of trust," I argued, but he was already walking away. I rolled my eyes, "How will you even know if you see Carlisle?" I called. "You don't know what he looks like."

Felix turned around. "I'm not looking for Carlisle," he admitted. "I'm trying to get away from you."

* * *

**I knew I said this would be a reunion chapter, but it just didn't feel right.**

**Anyway, is Felix being too #Dramatic or is Addison the #Wrongone in their fight?**

**-Lauren**


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter eleven

I didn't chase after Felix. I was tired of his games and childish behavior. Also, I knew if I followed him we'd only end up fighting again and I really didn't want to fight. Every harsh word he yelled was like a stab to my heart.

I focused all my energy on finding Carlisle—he always used to make me feel better. But . . . then again—I had never felt quite _this_ solemn before. It was to be expected, though. Felix was always making me feel things I had never experienced before.

And there I went, thinking of him again.

My heart started aching, which was weird. Since my transformation I had always thought I didn't have a heart.

Damn it all to hell! I should never have let Felix travel with me! He had gotten in my head and now my heart. I'm sure that was the plan all along; breaking me.

No one knew what it was like to be me. No one understands. Not Carlisle. Not Felix. Nobody. Sometimes I don't even understand myself.

I wished I had a friend. Someone to talk to, you know? But the things I needed to talk about were insane. Ghosts and vampires and murderous lovers hardly seemed like normal subjects to converse in.

And, yet again, I found myself wishing Carlisle had just let me die. I had long sense forgiven him for changing me into a vampire, but it was hard to live a life like this and instead of blaming myself I blamed Carlisle.

If _Carlisle _had let me die the little girl would still be alive.

If _Carlisle _had let me die I wouldn't love Felix.

If _Carlisle_ had let me die I wouldn't be hurting.

See, it was easier to blame him instead of admitting to my own wrongs. Instead of admitting that I'd lost control and killed the girl, fell in love with Felix on my own, and then lied to Felix; causing him to hate me.

I felt like I was at that point where I needed to stop lying to myself. Everything was my fault and the sooner I admitted it, the sooner I could start to forgive myself.

But with blame came guilt and I truly didn't know if I could handle it.

I couldn't handle much of anything lately.

I groaned inwardly as I noticed the cloud-cover was lifting very quickly; soon—I estimated—sunlight would shine over every inch of Columbus. I had to get out of here before I exposed myself.

Exposure, I rolled my eyes. I couldn't imagine the rant Felix would give me if someone saw me in the sunlight.

I retreated out of the city and into the forest to avoid the sun, telling myself I would look for Carlisle tonight.

To pass the time I decided to go on a small hunt—which I always hated doing. Anytime I hunted the fact that I was killing another living thing upset me very much.

I didn't care that they weren't human or that they didn't have souls—didn't have spirits. I was killing a living, breathing organism. Killing to stay alive. Sometimes I told myself that it was only natural selection. I was at the top of the food chain now. I conquered all of them.

It was sort of poetic, though. Carlisle had once told me in my sickness I coughed up blood and now I drank it. It seemed I never really could escape the essence of blood itself. Perhaps it was simply fate.

I lifted my nose up into the wind, searching for something to hunt. At first I got nothing, but as I traveled farther into the forest I could the strong, disgusting scent of an omnivore. Sighing inwardly I ran in the direction of my victim, hoping for a quick kill.

I hated when they struggled.

It wasn't like they would ever win against me.

How had I not realized how thirsty I was before? It felt like a hot stick of iron was being jabbed down my throat. Perhaps, I reasoned, my everlasting sorrow over Felix distracted me from the pain.

Spotting my prey—around four elks—I hid being a tree, observing them and their moving patterns. I was about to lunge in for the kill when someone else swooped in and bit into one!

"What?" I shrieked, outraged.

The rest of the elks ran off, fearful at the sight of their bloody friend. This fact made me even more livid. I marched towards the guy that had stolen my kill—knowing he could hear me and was choosing to ignore me.

Even though I was downright furious, I gave the boy a few seconds to finish his meal. In a way, I pitied him. I knew how much the burning hurt and was giving him the time to cleanse it.

After the guy finished _my_ meal, he stood up and I gasped.

It was Edward, the same one from 1918! He looked a little bit different than before—which was to be expected—now he was a full vampire.

Edward's eyes were a light gold from his recent hunt and they radiated an absurd amount of intelligence. His hair looked a little like mine, although Edward's was allot redder. Edward was beautiful like all of us were, but after being with Felix for so long the kid looked like he was a twig. Handsome, but weak and scrawny.

His eyes narrowed. "How do you know me? Who are you?"

Mildly amused, I asked, "Hasn't Carlisle talked about me?"

My manor was joking but internally I was greatly saddened by the fact Carlisle didn't speak of me. We had traveled together for thirty years and I often considered him a father. I talked about Carlisle all of the time with Felix. I had always thought Carlisle would do the same. Didn't he have any integrity?

"Don't talk about him like that!" Edward snarled, his eyes flashing.

I stared at him, bored by his—rather, lack of—self-control. "I didn't say anything."

"Yes," he agreed. "But you were thinking it."  
_Thought?_ Could Edward somehow read my mind? Wow. Carlisle had been right when he said Edward was special.

"And I'll have you know," he continued, "_Addison_! Carlisle speaks fondly of you. You're the only friend he's ever had and then you up and left! I ought—"

I interrupted, "Settle down there, spitfire."

I knew he didn't want to be quiet, but he complied anyway. Curious to what I had to say, I was guessing.

"How did you know my name?" I interrogated. "Can you read my thoughts? Where is Carlisle? Does he know?"

"I knew your name because Carlisle thinks about you sometimes, letting me know what you look like. And of course Carlisle knows of my gift," he rolled his eyes. "I trust him."

Another pang went through my heart as I was forced to think of Felix again. I should have told Felix sooner. Now I had lost him.

After staring at me for a few seconds, Edward soothed, "Felix will forgive you."

"Please," I said, not wanting to speak of Felix any longer. "Take me to see Carlisle. I think an apology is overdue."  
Edward eyed me carefully. "He is out of town visiting a patient."

My forehead creased as I remembered the only time Carlisle had left me alone to treat a patient—the time I killed the little girl with the bright blue eyes.

"Have you ever killed someone?" I asked, near-silent.

"No." I heard a slight drip of icy compassion in his voice. "Carlisle always keeps an eye on me."  
"Except for today?" I questioned.

Edward nodded with far-off eyes. "You were there when I was changing, yes?"

"Um . . ." I mumbled, slightly uncomfortable. I wasn't sure what Carlisle had told him about me—or, I suppose, thought about me. "Yes. How did you know?"

"Carlisle often thinks about it—the night I was changing. He tries not to think of the fight you too had, but he slips sometimes."

"Why?" I wondered.

"It's painful of him to remember his mistakes," Edward told me.

Mistake? Was that all I was? Carlisle's folly?

He groaned. "Don't think of it like that."

"Was honesty not your intent?" I asked, offended.

"No . . . I didn't mean for you to interpret it like that."

"Then what _did _you mean?"

"Carlisle regrets the things he said." Edward explained. "His mistakes include his actions that night."

"Oh," my voice was quiet as I recalled Carlisle attacking me and exactly how painful it was . . .

"Would you like to see our home?" Edward asked in a tight, controlled tone.

I almost asked what was wrong with him, but then I remembered he could hear what I was thinking. It must have been awkward for him to hear these things. I felt almost like he carried around some guilt—almost as if he blamed himself for how things went down between Carlisle and I because he was the reason of our fight.

"Alright," I mumbled, desperately trying to distract myself from my inner monologue. "How far is it from here?"

"It isn't far. Quite close, in fact."

I nodded, preparing myself for a run.

"No," Edward said quietly. "Can we walk instead? I would like to spend more time talking to you."

I wanted to protest and tell him that the amount of time we had together wouldn't change by the setting, but there was something in his eyes that refrained me from speaking up. He looked so forlorn in that moment.

"Sure," I replied. "Let's walk."

And that we did. For a few minutes we didn't talk, both of us unsure of what to say. I knew he wanted to ask me something, but he didn't know how to start and was worried of how I would respond.

Though, I really did wish he would hurry up. If I wasn't distracted I would start to think of Felix and thinking of Felix only led to aguish—as always.

Edward finally managed to submit, "Can I ask you something?"

"Why not?" I asked rhetorically, trying to appear unfazed by his question while in reality I was elated that Edward would be able to serve as a diversion.

He looked hesitant to do so, but he eventually inquired, "Why did you stand up for me?"

_Huh?_ Well, I wasn't expecting that.

"I mean," Edward's eyes were downcast, "Why did you stand up for me that night? Why engage the fight over me and my humanity?"

I was confused, reflecting back on the harsh words Carlisle and I had exchanged. "What do you mean by that? I didn't want for you to live."

"I know," Edward agreed in an enthusiastic tone. "I don't want to live either."

I wasn't surprised. No one liked this life with all the murder, killing, and blood. Well, actually, maybe Felix did. Felix liked it just a little too much.  
"This life—it is a horrible one," I told him. "But you shouldn't wish for death."

"And why not?"

I wasn't sure why he wanted me to answer the question. He knew what I was going to say by reading my mind. Why did it matter if I said it out loud versus in my head?

"Honestly," I sighed. "You're judging far too quickly. You've only been exposed to neglect this far in your life. You have never seen the good in the world."

He quirked a brow. "And you have?"

I thought about Felix and how he was a gruesome murderer. I thought about how he killed mercilessly and liked doing it.

Somehow Felix was the good in my world.

"I suppose," I replied.

"You never did answer my question," Edward said pointedly. "Why did you stand up for me?"

"Because . . . putting it simply; no one deserves this life."

Edward was quiet for a few seconds, digesting this new information. Then, Edward inquired, "Is it true you see the dead?"

"I'm not sure how that's prevalent to our conversation, but yes. You read minds, I see dead people."

"Do you see vampire's ghosts?" he asked.

My eyes widened. "What?"

"Dead vampires," he repeated. "Do you see their ghosts?"

"N-no, why?"

Edward's mouth moved into a firm line of displeasure as he muttered, "So it's true then? Our souls are damned?"

"I wouldn't call it damned—"

"This is our afterlife!" Edward said, gesturing around. "Don't you get it? When we die as vampires we become nothing. This is it, Addison."

Truthfully, I had never thought about it before. I had never actually cared what happened to me once I died. But, now, with Edward's opinion on our life/death situation I started to wonder.

I wondered if his theory was correct and of the consequences behind it. What would happen if I died right here and now? Would I truly become nothing? It was a hard theory to accept—especially with my gift. I saw the afterlife on a daily basis. But Edward was right—I had never seen a dead vampire.

"Perhaps we go somewhere else," I suggested. "Somewhere other than Earth."

He scoffed. "Where would we go to? The moon?"

"I don't know," I admitted. "I haven't had the time to think about it. There has to be some explanation, Edward. Things don't just disappear."

Edward's eyes darkened in anger. I was puzzled at what his anger could be directed at. His eternal damnination? Me questioning his theory? I tried not to dwell on it . . . instead choosing to look anywhere else but at Edward.

He was starting to scare me.

Desperation on making the walk as blissful as possible, I yammered, "Have you read The Snow Queen?"

Edward barely reacted at all—he only shrugged slightly.

"There's a concept in The Snow Queen that has stuck with me for years . . ." I trailed off, hoping Edward's curiosity would spike up and he would urge for me to continue my thought.

Edward bit my bait, "What concept?"

I squinted, trying to remember it perfectly. I had read the book back when I was sick and dying in my human life, resulting in my memories being slightly tinted. "There was this troll," I told him. "Although he was described as the devil. I think. I never understood that . . . Anyways, the devil and his demons create this very special mirror. Basically, whoever looked into the mirror would only see the bad in people. The devil and his demons one day decided they would bring the mirror into heaven to trick the angels into seeing everything grotesque. But as the devil went higher and higher, closer and closer to the heavens he lost his grip on the mirror and it fell onto Earth, shattering into billions of pieces. The pieces went into many human's hearts and eyes, resulting in that they could only see the bad in people."

I looked over at Edward, trying to gauge his reaction. His forehead creased and he only said, "Don't base your ideals off of fiction."

I was hurt. Edward could read my mind and knew my intent of telling him that short tale—to preserve the small chatter we had created together. Why was he acting like such a . . . a . . .

"Cretin?" he supplied sourly.

Embarrassed and slightly ashamed, I did not reply.

"You know," I said after some time had passed. "Carlisle is very strong with his faith. I'm willing to bet he's very disappointed in your idea of our vampire afterlife."

I was down at the ground, but I could feel Edward's gaze on me—I always could. He had a strong stare; one that made you slightly uncomfortable. "Carlisle lets me believe whatever is to my liking."

I felt like there was a hidden message in that sentence—one that wasn't very nice.

I, again, chose not to reply to Edward.

"So," Edward mused. "Do tell, how do these ghosts seem to find you? How do they know you can see them?"

I was slightly shocked at Edward's mood change. I hadn't known vampires could be bipolar.

"I'm not sure," I admitted. "Perhaps I radiate a frequency of some sort." I hesitated. "You know, you make me question things I haven't ever thought about."

"That's what you need to do then: think."

I bristled. "Are you calling me dim?"

"Interpret it however, Addison. I don't care whatever your opinion is of me."

And then he started running.

"Well!" I said to the empty forest crossly. "Doesn't he just think he's the _king_ of the world?"

And then I ran after him.

* * *

Things were weird between Edward and I as we waited for Carlisle together. Sometimes we got along fantastically, sharing good natured jokes and long stories. But then Edward would have a mood swing and insult me.

I didn't understand him. Edward was a strange one alright.

Whenever I was trapped in an awkward moment with Edward I began to pray that Felix would miraculously appear and make the situation—somehow—better. Though, Felix never came. I knew he would be able to find me—he always could. Something with being around Demetri for so long had him excellent in tracking.

I asked myself if he had abandoned me. I knew what he would be thinking as he did so;

She'll be with Carlisle now.

She doesn't need me.

She doesn't trust me.

She doesn't love me.

So I'll just go.

But that was the thing. I did need him and I did trust him and I did love him and I'd never be happy again without him.

I knew I had missed my chance to tell Felix I was sorry. Did that make it—technically—my fault?

"When bad things happen you always have to blame someone," my mother had told me once. "It's just how it works, Addison."

"But what if it's no one's fault?"

"It's always someone's fault," she argued lightly.

I was confused. "What if it's my own fault?"

Her eyes were misty as she replied, "It's horrible when you begin to blame yourself. The worst feeling of all is realizing it was your fault. No one else's but yours."

I was tired of blaming Felix and acting like he was the bad guy. Yes, he did horrible things every second of every day, but not this time. This time I was the bad guy. I had lied to him and ruined everything.

I was trying to read Shakespeare's "The Tempest" when I heard the door open from downstairs—the front door. I threw the book aside as I ran downstairs as fast as I could. Déjà vu surged through my body as I remembered the night Edward had been changed. This felt _so_ much like it.

A familiar blonde man froze at the sight of me. "Addison?"

I grinned—not one of the fake ones I had been trying to produce ever since Felix had left, but a real one. "Hello Carlisle."

Carlisle was instantly in front of me, his eyes wide like a bugs. His arm was outstretched slightly as if he was trying to reach for me, but unsure if it would be appropriate.

Rolling my eyes inwardly at Carlisle's absurd politeness, I jumped into his arms. Carlisle held steady, his arms wrapping around me as he breathed in my scent. I didn't find it odd—I was doing the same to him.

I hadn't smelt his scent in so very long. I had missed it. In fact, I had missed everything about Carlisle. I missed his jelled back hair, I missed his long-white doctor coats, I missed the inside jokes we shared, I missed how we would stare at the stars as he retaught me the constellations—I had forgotten them from my human life.

"I missed you," I admitted.

His arms tightened slightly around me. "I missed you, too."

* * *

**UM SO**

**Yeah, there's Edward here. Sorry if he's kind of ... uptight, but that kinda is his character (to me, at least)**

**AND YEAH SO CARLISLE IS BACK!**

**BY THE WAY. I'm sorry if there are mistakes in any chapters, I don't have a beta and I don't like reading over chapters. It's boring because I know what's going to happen. SO I APOLOGIZE!**

**Okay, R&R**

**Ich liebe dich :-)**

**-Lauren**


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter twelve

Before I knew it two months had passed. Everything was the same, but still so different.

Edward was still frank with me—so frank it was sometimes rude. Carlisle and I bonded impossibly fast over the smallest of details. He started to give me medical training so I could become an assistant of his—a nurse—like Pastor Cullen had advised for me to do all of those years ago.

It felt like I was truly home with the two of them. Edward made hunting fun with his competitions and Carlisle reminded me of the good things in life. Everything seemed so perfect.

But that was the thing with perfect—only the outside looked great.

Inside, every single day, I was contemplating suicide. Sometimes it was only for a brief second, hardly even a thought, but then there were the days were I truly sat down and thought about it.

It was melodramatic—I knew that deep inside—but I didn't care. It was almost like there wasn't life without Felix. I was just this blank shell. Yes, I smiled for Carlisle and Edward—even though both of them knew I was hurting—but with each smile I only became more broken.

Some days I couldn't even smile. I didn't even try to mask my pain. I simply gave up. Those were the days Carlisle would truly become worried—not that he wasn't upset before.

"Keep your feelings in check," I would tell myself. "Keep it together, Addison."

You see, in front of me was an impossible task.

I had to think of Felix near every second of every day. I _had_ to. But then again, thinking of him brought me only pain and sorrow. How could someone enjoy thinking about their lost love if it only brought them extreme agony?

"You're getting worse," Edward noted. His eyes didn't stray from his book as he told me this—acting nonchalant. Though, no matter what body language he used I knew he cared about me.

Somehow I had wormed myself into Edward's frozen, black heart.

"That's not funny!" Edward barked loudly.

"You shouldn't listen if you don't like the words," I snapped back. I had once tried to keep Edward out of my head by thinking of irrelevant things, but it always backfired. You can't just stop thinking. So I stopped trying to filter my thoughts.

"You know," Edward put his book down, "Felix is going to come back."

My heart burned at the mention of his name—making it all the worse. "Don't lie to me." My tone was clipped. "It'll only make things worse."

"I'm not lying to you." I heard honesty ring from every word. "Carlisle and I were talking last week—he thinks Felix is your mate."

"Mate?" I sounded hopeless . . . even to myself. "What is a mate?"

"Soul mate."

I had no idea what he was talking about. "What is a soul mate?"

He sighed heavily, aggravated by my stupidity. "You really don't know?"

My voice was almost silent, "Well now you're just being mean."

Edward sighed again. "There is an ancient Greek myth of soul mates, of which Carlisle has high regards for. Basically, the myth states, humans originally had four arms, four legs, and one head made of two faces. These humans were very powerful, making a great stir in the Greek Gods. Zeus, the leader of the Gods, came up with a solution to split the humans in half—to create two souls."

I stared at him. "That's the end of the story?"

He shrugged, "I suppose. It is said when the two halves of the soul find each other they will feel unified and have no greater bliss."

Was Edward implying that Felix and I were once a person and then split in half by Zeus?

Edward laughed—a rare and unusual feat. "No. Nothing of that sort. I'm trying to tell you what a mate is—two halves of a soul."

I squinted at him. "That's possible?"

Edward simply shrugged again, unsure of his answer—I was guessing. "I don't know, you're the one with the supposed second half. You tell me."

I sat back in my chair, thinking hard.

It didn't make any sense on a logical level, but my more spiritual—emotional—side of me was screaming Edward and Carlisle were right. Felix was made for me.

"I love him so much," I told Edward.

"I know."

I smiled broadly, "He takes my breath away."

"How is that possible?" Edward questioned. "Your lungs are empty."

I chose not to take his snappy replies personally, after all, Edward was always like this; responding with sardonic and depressed thoughts. I worried about him sometimes.

"Honestly," Edward continued. "I don't understand how it's possible for you to feel so strongly for someone. You're dead, Addison. I don't see how you don't understand that."

"Just because I'm dead doesn't mean I can't love," I mumbled.

He was starting to hurt my feelings now.

"We're practically zombies," he said. "Not dead, but not alive, either. Just—there. Not meaning anything. Never moving forward."

"Don't say that," I ordered. "You can't honestly believe that to be true, Edward."

Edward didn't reply, telling me all I needed to know. He truly did think we were zombies. I waited a beat, giving myself a chance to calm down before I asked, "But why does he hate me?"

Edward rolled his eyes. "He probably thinks you hate him and that he's done wrong to you."

I had never thought about it like that before—Felix never allowed the blame to be put upon himself. But what if—just this time—he was actually calling his fault on the situation?

"You shouldn't over-analyze," Edward warned.

"I cannot help it."

"Think about it like this—you both love each other, right?" I nodded tearfully. "Then you'll end up together eventually. Things are too confusing for the both of you right now to be in a relationship. Neither of you understand your bond."

"And you do?" I asked. "Understand our bond, I mean."

Edward smiled crookedly. "Of course, I do. I can read your mind, Addison Jane."

Edward, then, walked out of the room.

Sometimes Edward's gift scared me.

I had never told him my middle name before.

* * *

"Where are we going?" I asked Carlisle nervously, tucking my coat unnecessarily closer to my body as the wind picked up.

"I have to visit a patient in town," Carlisle explained, he looked over at me sadly. "Don't worry, this won't take long."

"This patient is dying," I stated this, I did not ask it.

"Yes."

"Of what?" I inquired as we entered Carlisle's automobile.

Carlisle shut the door to his side and turned on the car. Purposely evading my question, he said, "You're a very curious girl. Have I told you that before?"

"All of the time," I smiled despite myself. My forehead crinkled as I remembered he hadn't answered my question. "Carlisle," my voice was tender, "What is the patient dying of?"

"She—my patient—has been cursed with Consumption."

My voice was quiet, "That is the same disease I had, right?"

"Correct," Carlisle replied.

We spent the rest of the car ride in silence, both of us caught up in our own thoughts. When we finally arrived at a small town house I didn't move an inch to get out of the car. It was almost like I was chained to my chair.

Carlisle glanced over at me. "Are you coming?"

"I cannot go in there," I said.

"Why?"

"I don't know . . . it feels wrong." My voice was quiet, sounding slightly pathetic.

Carlisle's eyes softened, compassion radiating from him. "I think I understand. You don't want to see others suffer from the same disease you suffered from."

"No," I sighed. "I hardly remember being sick."

"But do you remember being lonely? My patient hasn't had company in so very long. Will you come in if only to say hello? It would mean a lot to her."

I knew he was right, but I still couldn't move. "Go without me," I mumbled. "I'll wait out here."

Carlisle stared at me for a few moments. I think he was hoping I would change my mind. I didn't. I knew he tried to conceal it, but disappointment shone brightly in his golden eyes.

And then he got out of the car.

I watched him leave, shaking slightly. Ever since Felix had left my emotions had been all over the place. It was like I was really happy, but I'd start sobbing instead of smiling for no reason. Even I didn't understand why I would get so upset.

Everyone was growing tired of my theatrics—even me.

Once Carlisle entered the townhouse I bolted from the car and ran towards the nearest wooded area I could find. I didn't know what I was thinking. I don't think I was thinking. I just had to get away.

I knew one of my dark moods was about to descend—the one where I become philological and depressed. The worst combination. Sometimes in my seldom moods I would start to miss things.

Sometimes I missed being human, but not really. I didn't miss the weakness, the pain, and the hurt that came with it. I didn't miss the sickness and the heartbreaking loneliness I had felt in my final days.

But I missed the things humans could _do_. I missed sleeping—dreams mainly. I didn't care about the occasional nightmare. I loved dreaming too much to pass up sleeping altogether. Dreaming was where I could get away from my hellish reality and be happy for once.

I missed eating. I missed feeling full after a large meal, it was worth the pain of hunger. Foods used to taste so heavenly—I remembered it clearly. Desserts were the best. I absolutely fell in love with pie at the ripe age of seven—pumpkin pie was preferable.

When I tried to eat pumpkin pie a few years ago I spat it up instantly, fearing I might die from the absolute foulness of it. I had thought to myself, _how could something that used to be so amazing be so horrid now?_

I—strange as it was— missed bleeding. I missed the feeling of pain itself. I missed being able to break and crack and have scabs and imperfections. I missed it all.

It was strange how I remembered these things from my human life but I couldn't remember my parent's face or if the name of the maid that had taken care of me was Anna or Annie.

I remembered all of the wrong things in all of the wrong ways. I never did anything right. I couldn't even recall my own—human— thoughts correctly.

Sighing inwardly, I admitted, the one thing I missed most of all was Felix. He was all I ever thought about. Felix, Felix, Felix. Him, him, him. We were all wrong for each other. I liked to think I was kind and gentle, whereas Felix was a brash murderer. It—our love—was almost symbolic; I saw the dead and he killed. An endless cycle.

A thought struck me; our love.

Was it real?

Felix had told me he loved me, but did it even matter? Those were just words that he'd spoken in a spur of the moment. Besides, he was probably back in Italy by now. I'd never see him again.

The thought of never seeing him hurt me so badly I actually doubled over, gasping. I was in middle of the woods by now, out of the human eyesight.

I collapsed onto the ground, convulsing in whimpers.

It was no good anymore. I didn't want this. I didn't want to live this life. I didn't want to live at all. I was so caught up in my memories I forgot to participate in the present. When I was forced into the present I'd realized I hated it and retreat back into my mind. I couldn't live like that anymore. I hated it all.

The fun was gone in the mythical life I had created.

There was nothing left.

I was a seventy year old girl that was tired of living.

It never should have lasted this long.

I should have died a long time ago.

* * *

**Kind of sad?**

**I don't know. I can't really portray sadness without repetition. **

**Times like these I need a beta :[. Anyone wanna beta :D?**

**R&R**

**Lauren**


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter thirteen

Everyone always sees the flaws in things. I was never like that. I saw the beauty in everything up until the end. I felt almost as if it was my responsibility to do so—seeing as no one else would.

1920 came and went like all of the other years. But unlike all of the other years I was reluctant to see it pass. So much had happened in 1920, the biggest thing being meeting Felix. He had met me and left me in the same year.

It was very immature of me to act on, but I thought if 1920 passed then Felix would be gone forever. It would be like he hadn't even been there at all. But, 1920 did pass like all of the other years.

Time was annoying like that; always moving forward.

* * *

Vampire memory is different than humans. We remember _everything_. We remember how we felt, what we said, and what we heard. Sometimes a vampire could close their eyes and if they tried hard enough they could pretend they were in a past memory—Carlisle had told me that.

That was why bad memories were hard. You couldn't forget, no matter how hard you tried—no matter how much you wanted to. They could never be erased. It was yet another reminder of the downsides of vampirism.

I remember when Felix said goodbye to me, although I hadn't known he was saying farewell to me at the time.

Four months later and I still saw the absolute hatred in his face every time I closed my eyes.

"I'm trying to get away from you," he had said.

Four months later and I still couldn't believe Felix had said that. I couldn't fathom why I wouldn't accept it. He was gone, he had even told me he was trying to get away . . . from me.

I'm.

Trying.

To.

Get.

Away.

From.

You.

Get away he had.

He had gotten as far as he could from me.

But good memories! Oh! When good things would happen you never _wanted_ to forget. It was incredible—no, it was indescribable.

"That was why vampires live in their memories," Carlisle had once told me. "When nothing but misery surrounds them they can go to a better place—where perhaps their friends and families are still alive."

On February ninth of 1921 Carlisle and Edward had left me home alone to go on a father son bonding trip. I wasn't exactly sure how killing animals was to bond them closer together, but I didn't ask. I liked being alone and away from their prying eyes.

At two in the morning there was a heavy knock on Carlisle's—my front door. I had been in the den rereading Dracula when I heard it. I was instantly alert. The knocker at the door wasn't alive. I would have been able to hear a heartbeat or breathing. But there was nothing.

Silence.

Edward had once said silence had a sound, but there was nothing in this silence. The silence was silent—as it should be.

I was walking slowly to the front door, but hesitated as I was hit with another thought—if the knocker was a vampire why hadn't it attacked me already? Why was it even knocking? Couldn't it kick the door down?

What if the knocker attacked me? What, then? I wasn't a good fighter—I was weaker than the average vampire and I hated to hurt things. Plus, my gift made it extra hard for me to concentrate. If the knocker attacked me I'd most certainly die.

Would I be able to make it to the forest to run to Edward and Carlisle? Would they help me? Carlisle was always so anti-violence. I doubted he'd fight someone—even for me, his daughter.

Gathering up some nonexistent nerve I opened the oaken front door. And in that very particular moment I memorized everything perfectly. I knew the second I saw him that I'd want to remember this moment forever.

He looked different, but it was a good different. I think.

He was larger—or at least it appeared he was. I knew vampires could never change what they looked like, so it was impossible to say he was bigger but still . . . I noticed his hair had changed—he had cut it. Before, his thick black hair was down to his ears. Now it was all buzzed off. It made him looked more threatening.

He appeared darker than before, almost as if a light had been switched off. There used to be at least a dab of happiness in his eyes when we had last spoken, but now there was nothing in his eyes but sorrow.

His eyes. His eyes weren't red. How hadn't I noticed sooner? They were yellow now! A bright gold!

Neither of us said anything, we only stared at each other.

And then, finally, he said, "Addison."

The dark void over his eyes lifted, showing intense relief and joy. Though, I didn't need to look into his new yellow eyes to know he was in a bliss; there was a large smile lighting up his entire face.

He never smiled.

I remembered that.

"Felix!" I cried. I jumped onto him, my arms wrapping around his waist instinctively. There was a second of hesitance before his own, strong arms constricted around my body.

I knew it was only a few minutes, but it might have as well been hours or days. Time felt meaningless in Felix's arms. I knew—in the back of my mind—that he had left me and we were supposed to be mad at each other, but I didn't care.

Nothing else mattered when I was with Felix.

Suddenly, with undeliberance I started sobbing. I didn't know why. Perhaps it was because I hadn't seen the man I loved in four months or maybe it was because I wasn't sure Felix loved me back. I might have been upset because I knew Felix was still angry with me or maybe—just maybe—it was because I was happy. For the first time in a long time I was actually happy.

Felix stepped back at the sound of my sobs, but kept both of his arms on my shoulders—it seemed almost as if we had to keep touching. "What's wrong?" he demanded, something dark shimmering in his eyes.

"Nothing!" I let out a watery laugh. "Nothing is wrong."

His forehead creased, his eyes sad. "If nothing is wrong why are you crying?"

"Because I'm happy, Felix."

His eyes lit up and he started hugging me again, but tighter. I wanted to scream at just how painfully compressed Felix was holding me—then I decided, no. It didn't matter how agonizingly strong he was. It didn't. All that mattered was that he was here.

* * *

After a long time we released each other from our embrace, but kept our hands tightly bound together. I felt if I let go of his hand he would run away again.

"Would you like to come inside?" I asked, gesturing to the home behind me with my free hand.

He quirked a brow. "You live here? I smell two other vampire's scents. Do they live with you?"

I felt my smile broaden. "Oh, yes! I have so much to tell you, Felix. You've missed so much." I hesitated, "And you have to tell me of your travels over our separation. I'd love to hear about where you went."

He shrugged. "Why does it matter where I went? It felt like nothing without you there."

My heart clenched at the solemn tone in his voice. I knew, in that moment, Felix had felt exactly what I had felt over the span of when he left. I knew he loved me, too. I knew we were meant to be. What had Edward called it? Soul mates? Mating? Or was it simply _mates_?

"Well," I said, trying desperately to lighten the mood. "Would you like to hear of my tale?"

He quirked a brow. "I suppose. Have you been taking care of yourself?"

I thought about all of the days where I considered killing myself. I thought about how I was too upset to hunt. I thought about just how much I hadn't been taking care of myself.

"Yes," I lied. "Come on in."

I opened the front door wide and gestured for Felix to enter and he did so with practiced reluctance. I led him over to the den where my copy of Dracula lied overturned on a side table. We sat down together on a large leather couch.

Felix sighed, closing his eyes. "What happened after . . ." he trailed off.

"After you left?" I supplied weakly and we both flinched at the word 'left'. Left had a negative connotation for me. Leaving in my book meant never coming back.

"Yes," he said.

I laughed humorlessly. "I look for Carlisle, as I said I would. The sun began to come out so I retreated into the forest. To pass the time I went hunting and ran into Edward—"

_"Edward?" _he demanded in a dark tone. If I didn't know better I'd say he sounded almost jealous.

"Edward." I nodded, smiling fondly. "I told you about him before. He's the reason I left Carlisle in the first place. Remember?"

"Yes."

Right. Vampires always remembered.

"Anyways," I said. "Edward brought me back to Carlisle and his home and we talked for a little while. See, Carlisle was out tending to a patient, we were waiting for him to come back. It was awkward between Edward and I at first." I chuckled, but when I saw Felix's straight face I stopped suddenly. "When Carlisle came back he accepted me back with open arms. The rest is history."

Felix's jaw clenched in anger, a small fire lighting up in his eyes. "Tell me more about Edward."

I stared at him. "Why?"

"I'm curious. You have a habit of making bad company.

I rolled my eyes at his words, but my voice sped up in excitement as I spoke of my brother, "Edward has a gift. He reads minds, you know. He sees what I see with my own power! I'm no longer alone!"

He growled. "Like Aro?"

My eyes widened. I had never made that connection before. "No . . . Edward is nice. He wouldn't—"

"You can't stay here," Felix decided, standing up from the large leather couch. "Carlisle hurt you, Addison. How can you forget that? He ripped your leg off! And Edward is just like Aro you can't—"

"Stop!" I was screaming just to be heard over his loud speaking voice. "You can't come here and try to control my life! I was doing just fine before you came back."

It was a lie. I had been doing horrible without him—crying every day. But I wasn't about to tell him that.

He stared at me. Didn't say anything—just stared. His eyes were dull. Sort of empty. Sad.

I immediately felt guilty for blowing up at him. "Look at us," I joked. "We're already fighting with each other."

I had expected for him to laugh or at least crack a narcissistic smile, but his mouth line stayed straight as a pole; unamused. When he spoke his voice was serious. "I don't want to fight with you—not now, not ever. I only want you to be safe . . . that was why I left you."

Inappropriately I busted out into a fit of giggles. It wasn't that I found his words amusing, I think they were hysterical laughs. I might have been laughing at myself and my foolishness. "You left to protect me!" I snorted. "I'm unbreakable, Felix."

I could tell he had a lot to say. I knew he wanted to yell at me. But Felix didn't. He only sighed—he seemed to be doing that allot—heavily and sat back down on the couch.

The fight drained out of me as I witnessed his sorrowful expression. I felt _so_ bad.

"I'm sorry," he muttered. His voice was quiet for once. If I had been human I wouldn't have been able to hear him. "I was vacuous and angry. I wasn't thinking real well. I inferred you'd be better off without me."

"What?" I cried. "You're mad! Absolutely insane to think I'd be better off in life without you!"

"No," he shook his head firmly. "You were right."

"About what?" I pleaded. I was desperate to get that miserable look out of his eyes. "I'm never right."

"Yes, you're always right, Addison. I'm a murderer. I caused you so much pain . . ." Felix looked down. "I made you see ghosts—ghosts that would torture you."

"But your eyes are yellow now!" I exclaimed. "Felix, you aren't a murderer anymore."

"I'll always be one. I _like_ killing."

"Then why?"

"Why what?"

"Why have you started drinking from animals?" I asked.

I had a good idea of why he had, but I wanted to be absolutely sure before coming to any conclusions.

"To be with you," he replied simply. "I love you."

My eyes widened. That wasn't what I had been expecting. I scolded, "You mustn't be so nonchalant with that word."

Felix's frown got impossibly larger. "I should go," he said, standing up yet again. "I shouldn't have come back."

My mouth fell open and a small gasp of horror slipped out. "No!"

And then I began to wail—for the second time of February ninth 1921. My hands wrapped around my stomach and my fingernails dug into my diamond flesh. I was so numb. I had to hurt myself to feel something—to remember I was still alive. I was absolutely devastated at the thought of him leaving me.

"No, no, no!" I whimpered. "Please don't."

Finding darkness as I tried to see I realized I must have closed my eyes at some point in the duration of my meltdown. I opened them to see Felix's face an inch away from mine. I didn't react much—I only blinked a few times and my sobbing ceased.

"I hate it when you weep," he said. "Please don't ever cry again."

Deep inside I knew that sentence was slightly controlling, but I didn't care. I'd jump off a thousand cliffs for Felix and all he had to do was ask.

"I love you, too," I whispered, staring into his newly colored eyes.

He kissed me.


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter fourteen

"Ugh," Felix groaned. "Is that_ another_ Picasso painting?"

I rolled my eyes. "I don't see why you find his work so awful. It's beautiful to me."

Edward appeared between the two of us, his eyes narrowing at the abstract art. "I think you're the only one buying his paintings, Addison. No one enjoys this kind of trash."

I frowned, offended. "You only say that because you're jealous."  
Felix and Edward both erupted into laughter.

I bristled. How dare they make fun of such radiance?

"You're both idiots!" I accused angrily, grabbing the painting and marching upstairs.

"Oh, come on! Don't be like that!" Felix called, trailing behind me. "We were only joking."

I was fully intent on ignoring him, but then large arms wrapped around my waist and pulled me against a strong abdomen. I gasped, dropping the painting onto the floor. I hardly notice a small tear formed on the middle of the masterpiece—I was too absorbed by the fact that I was in Felix's arms.

I was instantly aroused by being in close proximity to him. Ever since Felix had returned things had been wild between us. We weren't married, he hadn't even proposed yet, but we both knew we were going to spend the rest of our lives together as "mates".

I was still giddy about the fact that Felix had taken my innocence. I was a strict Christian and believed of sex after marriage, but Felix always made me feel like we were married. He made me feel like we weren't doing anything bad. How _could_ it be bad? Intercourse with Felix was anything short of magnificent.

"Get a room!" Edward screamed from downstairs.

I felt instantly ashamed. I had forgotten all about Edward's mind reading gift. How embarrassing it must be for him to hear the things going around in my head!

Felix twirled me around to face him. "What do you say?" he asked, giving me a smirk. "Want to take this to a room?"

My eyes widened. "Edward is downstairs! He can hear everything."  
Felix shrugged. "It's not my fault Edward's a pervert."

"Hey!" Edward protested from downstairs. "That's not true."

We both ignored Edward.

"So how about that room?" Felix asked.

"Well," I drawled, purposefully tempting him. "How about it?"

I sent him a wink and was instantly inside my bedroom. Deep inside I found it slightly odd that I had a bed. I didn't sleep. Though, Felix thought it was fantastic I had a bed. "For our more sensual activities," he had explained.

Sometimes Felix could be a little forward.

After Edward and Carlisle had returned from their hunting trip they discovered Felix had returned. Carlisle had welcomed him into our family enthusiastically. He loved the fact that Felix's eyes were now golden. Edward was more than hesitant to accept Felix. Edward knew how much pain he had caused me.

Alas, eventually Edward and Felix swallowed their pride and became brothers—more or less for my sake. We were a big happy family now. A family of three boys and one girl.

* * *

"Checkmate."

Felix flipped the chess board. "This is bull! You cheated!"

I sighed. "What did you expect? He can read your mind."

"I know!" Felix growled. "But—"

"He hates losing," Edward explained with a chuckle.

"This isn't considered losing! It isn't a loss if your opponent is cheating for the win," Felix insisted.

"It's not cheating," I explained warily. "He can't turn off his gift."

"Which makes him a cheater!"

I sighed again, exasperated by Felix's ego. "Take a walk, big guy. Go cool off. And when you come back you can verse me in chess."

"I don't want to verse you," he said. "You're horrible at chess."

I shrugged. "Well, I can't be good at everything."

Felix banged his head down on the table we had previously been playing chess on. The table instantly collapsed, causing Felix to get even angrier.

Edward eyed him carefully. "I like Addison's suggestion of taking a walk. You need to release some of your fury."  
Felix glared at him. "I'm not—"

"Edward's right," I said quickly. I didn't want this to escalate into a fight. "Take a walk, honey. I'll go with you."

"Fine," Felix grumbled, standing up and walking over to the front door.

I shot Edward a backward glance before joining Felix at the doorway. "Come on," I murmured, taking Felix's hand in mine. "Let's go have fun in the woods."

"Fun?" He quirked a brow.

I rolled my eyes. "Not that kind of fun."

"Oh." He sounded disappointed.

"Good God," I laughed. "You can be such a pig."

"No, I'm a perfect gentleman."

My guffaws became even louder.

During my giggles I realized Felix had been staring at me strangely. I had wanted to ask him why, but I was laughing too hard. Eventually my infectious glee caught up with Felix and he began to laugh.

It was a good moment.

As we reached the forest our moods settled down into something more reasonable.

"I like the weather here," I told him.

"Why?"

"Because it's cloudy but warm. I always missed that—the warmth. It's weird to feel it now, being ice cold. But enjoyable all the same . . ." My voice trailed off, somewhat sadly.

"If you crave warmth we should go somewhere hot for a change!" Felix mused in excitement. "Florida? What about Texas?"

I simply stared at him, unimpressed.

"You're right. Not hot enough!" he deliberated for a second before perking up, "How about Ecuador? That's as hot as it gets!"

I sighed. "You seem to forget that we can't go out in the sunlight."

"No," he said. "I didn't forget. It's just that . . . we can go where no one else is in Ecquador! Or scare all the tourists away."

"What's the point? We'll always be hiding."

Felix frowned. "Hiding is part of who we are."

"But," I protested. "What if I don't want to hide anymore?"

Felix ignored my question and—instead—said, "We should look for a hot spring. That will make you warm."

"Sure," I agreed halfheartedly. My mind briefly flashed back to the chess match and how I was supposed to be distracting Felix. "So . . . where do you want to go after Ohio?"

Felix stared at me with scrutinizing eyes. "Why do you do that?"

"Do what?"

"You always . . ." he waved his hand for dramatic effect, "Worry about the future. Things in the present can change that will ultimately affect our futures permanently. It's impossible to plan ahead."

"Felix—"

"That's why I hate chess," Felix admitted. "It isn't about losing. It's about the player predicting the future that gets me so mad." He hesitated, looking down. "I used to plan ahead, but then I met you and I realized things can change in an instant."

I lightly touched his arm, causing him to look up from the ground and into my eyes. "I love you."

He grinned. "I never get tired of hearing that."  
"I never tire of saying it."

We stared at each other for a few seconds, neither of us daring to move—it would spoil the moment.

Finally, I said, "Puzzles."

He quirked a brow. "What?"

I smiled. "Puzzles are my favorite game, although I'm not sure they can be considered one. There is no winner and there is no loser. It's only for fun."

Felix made a face and protested, "But competitions are fun."

"Maybe to you, but . . ." I shrugged. "I prefer puzzles. There's only one route you can take; only one piece can go in a certain place. Precision."

He stared at me, a large grin sneaking up on his face. "I think puzzles are just a way for you to express your need of organization."

I childishly stuck my tongue out at him, causing his eyes to mock-widen. "Oh, I'm going to get you for that," he laughed.

I flirted, "I would like it if you got me for that."

Felix lunged at me playfully, pinning me to the ground effortlessly. Our eyes locked and he leaned down to kiss me. I closed my eyes, wanting to savor the contact of our skin meeting. His scent got stronger as he got closer and I smiled inwardly.

But then something just had to go wrong.

A scream sounded in the distance, causing Felix to jump up instantly and protectively. I, too, stood up and we both stared in the direction of the yelling. It was coming from near our home. Had Edward slipped up? And if he had, why was he allowing his victim to scream so much?

"We should go," Felix said, voicing my thoughts.

"Yes," I agreed. "Something is wrong."

We took off running towards the continued screaming—it was high pitched, telling me it was a female that was in pain. I wondered what had happened. Obviously if it had been a slip up she'd already be dead. So . . . what?

A thought occurred to me, causing me to nearly stop dead in my tracks. What if Carlisle had changed another?

I immediately dismissed this idea. No way would Carlisle do that! He and I had talked many times of his mistake in changing Edward and I. Although he loved us both dearly, he did regret damning out souls. Carlisle had given me his word he would never change another into a vampire.

But there was still lingering doubt in my mind.

We arrived at the house after a minute or two, after all, our walk hadn't lasted that long. The screams were very loud to my overly sensitive ears and now that I was at the house my instincts were going crazy.

My nose was yelling there was a human on the premises. My eyes were picking up on a small blood trail. My ears felt like they were bleeding from the human's yelps.

I swallowed my internal battle to stare at Felix, to see how he was handling this. I saw he was looking at me.

"Are you alright?" he asked.

"Perfect." We both flinched as another roar of pain was uttered. I motioned towards the front door. "Shall we?"

Felix frowned. "We'd better."

We ran to the front door to find it ajar. Sparing a quick look at each other we rushed inside to see Carlisle and Edward standing beside our leather couch. On the said couch laid the beholder of the noise. A human.

"What's going on?" Felix demanded. His eyes narrowed, "What have you done?"

Edward backed away from Carlisle to join us. I saw accusation and a small bit of betrayal in his eyes. "Yes, Carlisle. Do tell them what you've done."

Carlisle faced us with a large frown on his face. His eyes were full of guilt. "I couldn't let her die. I just couldn't."

Edward shook his head, glanced at me briefly as if to say _can you believe this?,_ then darted out of the room.

Carlisle looked at me, his eyes tortured. "Addison—"

I stared him dead in the eyes and said, "You lied to me."

And then I left to follow Edward.

* * *

Three days passed quickly even though I wished it to be slow. All of us were uncomfortable about the arrival of our new family member. She was older than I was, older than Felix and Carlisle, too. Late twenties, I think. There was a sad aura around her that would always tug at my heart.

Pity, I told myself. That was what it was.

This poor woman not even thirty had lost her soul and was cursed to drink blood for the rest of eternity. Oh, yes. I pitied her.

Felix tried to soothe me, show me the good opportunities that would come from this new addition.

"You won't be the only girl anymore."

"Maybe you'll have common interests."

"Perhaps she likes puzzles, too."

Nothing worked because I knew nothing good could come out of this. I knew that—eventually—I'd begin to love my new family member, but it would never be a good thing. Nothing good comes to the undead—the misfortunates.

Edward was more upset than I. Once turning the second day he'd gotten so fed up with it all he actually yelled at Carlisle. "How dare you play God!" he had screamed. "You're nothing short of a fool. You deserve damnination."

Of course after Edward had realized how harsh his outburst was he had apologized purposefully, but the damage was done. After that there was a little less of a light in Carlisle's eyes.

I turned the page of my book angrily, unable to actually read. I was too caught up in how regrettably unfair vampirism was. I sometimes wondered what would have happened if Carlisle had just let me die.

Would Felix had stayed with the Volturi?

Would Felix find another mate? Was it possible to find another mate? Edward had never explained mating much to me.

Would Edward still be a vampire?

Would this woman be a vampire?

Would Carlisle be this unhappy?

I guess I'd never know.

I had been halfway through a page of my book when I heard it—the woman's heartbeat speed up. I immediately threw the book down and ran downstairs. She was nearing her change.

Everyone else was downstairs by the time I got there, no doubt hearing the change in her heartbeat, too. I wondered how long it would take until she awoke. I wondered if she'd become hostile and attack us.

"Wait and see," Edward told me.

I looked down. I never really liked it when Edward responded to my thoughts, but I never blamed him for it. It was, after all, his gift. A gift he couldn't control.

Time passed quickly for vampires.

It seemed like a matter of seconds—where in reality it had been twenty minutes—before the woman opened her eyes. Her red eyes. It was strange to see eyes that color again. Nostalgic, almost.

She looked at all of us, her eyes flashing around fearfully. Finally they zeroed in on Carlisle and she gasped, "I know you! Doctor Carlisle! I know you!"

He nodded grimly. "It's nice to see your . . . eyes open."

Eyes.

As if you could call them that.

"What's your name?" Felix asked her, his arms crossed over his chest defensively. I felt like he was prepared to kill her. I also felt like he wanted to kill her. He hadn't killed a person or vampire in so long.

She licked her lips and stared downward, her eyes narrowing slightly.

"Do you remember your name?" I whispered.

Her red eyes flashed to meet my gold and she shook her head vigorously. "No. I'm sorry . . . I'm being rude." She smiled, "My name is Esme. Esme Platt."


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter fifteen

Things changed. Oh, yes, things changed very quickly after Esme Platt was added into our family. She instantly accepted her new vampire life and was overjoyed to be living with Carlisle—according to Edward, Esme had feelings for him.

I fell in love with Esme almost instantly. She was so kind and forgiving . . . God, Esme reminded me of a more humble version of my own mother. They even looked alike!

While I liked our new family member, Felix was a tad more hesitant. He had always been wary of other vampires—newborns especially.

But for the time everything was good, everyone was happy.

We all had our hobbies, ways to keep busy.

Esme loved decorating and interior design. She loved to move the furniture all around the house. I swear, every time I went into my room it looked different. Though, I really didn't mind—Esme always found a way to make everything look pretty.

Edward had began to study languages. His goal was to become fluent in every language, even Latin! Felix was helping him, since Felix had been around awhile and had picked up some things.

Carlisle was—like always—busy at work, helping others. He wanted to do as much as he could before we had to move. We'd been in Columbus for three years, someone was bound to become suspicious of our never changing appearances eventually.

I kept busy by talking with ghosts. I never really made friends with the ghosts, we only talked—they got lonely sometimes. Most of them were older than I was and they'd tell me all of these stories from their time—stories of kings, queens, and knights. It was interesting.

I mainly talked to Pastor Cullen—we had a _lot_ of catching up to do. When I left Carlisle in 1918, Pastor Cullen had decided to watch over his son instead of coming with me. He was a good friend of mine and I had genuinely missed him.

"What do you think of the new immigration limitations?" he asked.

I rolled my eyes. "I honestly think Congress only passed the new law to avoid another war—America is the sheer essence of caution." I hesitated, gathering my thoughts. "I think it's horrible what they're doing. Ireland just had a horrible famine, I think they should be allowed into our country. It's practically murder to tell them to not let them in."

He nodded in agreement. "It's a shame what they're doing, but I suppose it's working—we're not in a war, right?"

I made a face. "America is changing, for better or worse; I don't know. I mean, dear God! Have you seen the things women wear now? Dresses to their knees! It's absurd. And their hair! It's so short. If they dressed like that in my time they'd be executed for sure."

Pastor Cullen shrugged lazily. "You can't expect for things to always stay the same. New inventions will come, styles will fade in and out of use . . . it's natural for these to occur."

I sighed, resting my cheek in my palm.

"Besides," Pastor Cullen winked at me. "I happen to like change—it keeps things interesting."

I decided not to mention that vampires never changed.

We always stayed the same.

* * *

"I think Edward is depressed," I told Felix.

"He's always depressed."

"Yes," I agreed. "But this time it's serious."

He rolled his eyes. "It wasn't serious before?"

"It's _more_ serious this time."

"How so?"

I thought about it quietly. Ever since Esme had joined our family Edward had retreated into himself—he shut me out. The worst part was that he knew how much he was hurting me—he could read my mind. Edward knew I was concerned about him and he just didn't care.

Though, to explain it to Felix, I couldn't summarize my worries. It was the little things, like how Felix and Edward didn't play chess anymore, or how Edward stopped talking to ghosts with me.

"I don't know," I mumbled, looking down. "I think he might leave the family."

Felix surprised me by letting out a scoff. I bristled inwardly—I had thought Felix would at least care the slightest about Edward leaving our coven.

"What?" I demanded.

"Edward won't leave," his tone was firm. "He's too much of a daddy's boy."

I bit my lip. "You're sure about this?"

Felix winked at me. "Have I ever been wrong before?"

"Yes."

"I mean," he sighed. "Have I ever been wrong about anything important?"

I deliberated this for a moment. "I guess not."

Felix was wrong

In 1922 Edward left our family with the short explanation of, "Trying out new ideals."

What that meant, I didn't know. I didn't ask. I was too heartbroken over the fact that my brother was leaving. He was the only one that understood me—the only one that heard the ghosts, too. Felix was sympathetic towards my gift and helped me when he could, but not like Edward.

No one understood like Edward did.

And now no one ever would.

* * *

I soon realized why Edward had left; he had felt left out.

We all figured out fairly quickly that Esme and Carlisle were mates and Edward already knew Felix and I were together. He was the single one, the lone wolf.

As the more time passed since Edward had abandoned us, I felt more and more guilty. He was trapped in a house of two couples in love. Edward was cursed to hear our thoughts of adoration and never have his own. Tanya had been attracted towards him, showing an extreme amount of interest, but Edward turned her down.

I didn't blame him. I would, too, if I could hear the things my lover would be thinking.

* * *

In 1923 we had to leave Ohio.

"Where are we going to relocate to?" Esme asked.

Carlisle stared at her, his eyes lighting up. "Wherever you want to go."

Felix and I gagged at each other silently.

Esme met Carlisle's eyes briefly before they flashed over to us. "I . . ." she trailed off uncertainly. I knew what she was thinking; Esme wanted to go off with Carlisle and get married. She wanted to leave Ohio with only Carlisle.

Knowing she'd feel eternally guilty if she asked us to not go with them, I spoke up, "Felix and I were going to go to Virginia. He's always wanted to see the white house."

Felix flashed me a look that said, plain and simply, _what?_

Carlisle looked away from Esme reluctantly to face me. "_You and Felix_ are going to Virginia?"

"Yes," I clarified. "You and Esme are a blossoming couple." I swallowed thickly. I hated to leave Carlisle again, but he didn't need me anymore. "You need some alone time together."

Esme shook her head. "That's awfully kind of you, but we don't need—"

Felix quickly interrupted her, picking up on my train of thought, "We need some alone time together." He lied smoothly, "You see, we have these urges, but since Edward was around we couldn't . . ." He trailed off giving them an ounce of an idea of what was going through his head.

"Oh," Esme mumbled, glancing quickly at Carlisle. "How long will you be gone?"

I hesitated. How long should we go? Would a few months be enough? No. I had to give them time to settle in as a married couple. "Is three years too long?" I asked with a small, worried smile.

Felix's eyebrows shot up. His eyes portrayed concern as he eyed me.

"Three years!" Esme exclaimed with a small sob. "Oh, no! I'll miss you far too much."

Carlisle nodded furiously. "With Edward gone—I couldn't stand it if I lost both, too."

Relentless Guilt seeped through my veins. I immediately scolded myself for feeling such guilt—after all, I was only trying to help them. If anything, I should be feeling satisfaction.

"I'm sorry," I told them. I really was. I didn't want to leave. "But this is something we must do."

"Where will we meet up?" Esme inquired worriedly.

"How about a city?" I suggested.

Carlisle nodded, his eyes far-off in thought. "Rochester?"

"New York?" Felix sounded surprised. "That's a pretty big city."

"Yes," Carlisle agreed. "That way we'll be able to stay there longer."

I shrugged, "Alright. 1926 Rochester?"

"Oh," Esme cried. "That's so long away! Are you _sure_ you have to go? I'm sure you could complete your . . . urges here? While Carlisle and I are gone?"

I swallowed thickly. It felt like there was lead in my throat. It was hard to see Esme in such a despairing mood.

"We wouldn't want to make you uncomfortable," Felix said, shrugging one broad shoulder.

Carlisle sighed. "Will you at least keep in touch?"

I shook my head. "Keeping in touch would only make things worse."

"Well," Esme's forehead creased in concern. "What if something happens to you? How will we know you're alright?"

Felix laughed loudly at the thought of someone trying to attack us. He opened his big mouth to snark something at Esme, but I gave him a look. He quieted down immediately.

"If something does happen I'll make sure you find out," I replied.

"How?" Esme questioned.

I looked Esme right in the eye and told her, "I'll send a ghost to give you a message—or a sign at least."

Esme calmed slightly at this reassurance, but was upset all the same.

I didn't tell her that ghosts couldn't interact with any objects of the living, that there was no possible way for a ghost to _give_ her a sign. I tried not to feel guilty. After all, weren't most reassurances lies?


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter sixteen

We didn't go to Virginia. Instead we settled down in a rural town in Iowa—Garwin, it was called. Felix and I bought a small house there, right on the edge of town. We bought ourselves a generic Ford automobile to keep up appearances. It sure was _lovely_ to play normal.

The town held maybe five hundred fifty people at most, but the town kept to leaving Felix and me alone. Besides, I wasn't even sure if we could be considered residing in Garwin—our house was on the corner of town closest to the huge forest.

Felix and I were able to go out frequently since it was so cloudy all the time. On those rare sunny days Felix had taken to teaching me Italian. He said it was good to know more than one language.

"Penso che il vostro sia italiano è migliorata notevolmente. Ti amo Addison Jane." Felix said.

He would just talk and then tell me what he had said. Being a vampire, I only needed to be told one and I would forever remember it. But sometimes he liked to tease me and wouldn't tell me what he had said.

"What did you just say?" I asked sheepishly. I understood Ti amo—that was I love you. But the other stuff . . . ?

Felix smiled lazily. "Oh, nothing much, Addison Jane. You probably picked up on the important stuff."

Translation: he wasn't going to tell me.

I smiled to myself wildly and leaned over to give him a quick kiss, "Grazie! Ti amo Felix."

Kissing Felix was probably my favorite thing to do. Everything just felt warm and _right_. He was my mate, my other half.

Then again, with other halves, we were opposites. Felix was _ginormous _and I was very short_._ He was brash, whereas I was compassionate. Even with all of our differences, I loved him more than I'd loved anything ever before.

Separating from Carlisle and Esme was probably one of the best decisions I had ever made. While Esme and Carlisle were newly mated and needed time alone, I didn't realize that Felix and I needed it too.

We got to spend all of our time together and it was amazing. We still fought with a vicious passion but we always made up quickly. And sexually a lot of the time.

The time we spent in Garwin was time well spent. I had traveled the world, been to London, Paris, Russia, and Italy, but Garwin was my favorite. For it was in Garwin Felix asked me to marry him.

It had been a surprisingly warm day. The sky was actually open for once; the sun was shining brightly through the thick cloud cover. And yes, we were trapped indoors, but it was still remarkably gorgeous out. From my window, I could see children laughing and skipping stones in rain puddles.

Felix appeared behind me, his arms circling around my waist and pulling me towards him. "We should go out there," he said.

"We can't."

I felt him shrug. "Sure, we can't go in the street, but perhaps the woods? Out of plain sight?"

I smiled broadly, turning to look up at him. "Really?"

"Really."

"Alright," I nearly sang in elation. I pulled away from him, forcing his arms to contract. Felix looked slightly dejected, but then I intertwined our fingers and tugged lightly towards the back door.

"Over eager, are we?" he teased.

I simply laughed. "Let's go!"

Felix easily complied with my request, allowing me to pull him outside. I was surprised he wanted to go out in the sunlight—Felix loved the cold and hated warmth. I wanted to ask why he was coming out with me, but I'd only sound ungrateful. And I wasn't complaining that he was coming with me.

"Are you hungry?" I asked as we ran.

"You mean thirsty?" he corrected.

"Yes," I giggled

I think I saw him shrug. "I'm always thirsty."

We stopped running as we reached a large river. My eyes widened as I took in the sheer beauty of the landscape. Willow trees surrounded the area, causing them to mirror themselves in the water. And the water! It was fresh—for once; ever since Ford's automobiles had come out there had been allot of pollution.

From the corner of my eye, I spotted a small smile on Felix's face causing me to turn the slightest to get a better view of this rare occurrence.

"Care for a swim?" he questioned, an ebony brow raised.

I eyed the water doubtfully. "Is it deep enough?"

Felix chortled, mirth dancing playfully in his eyes. "Can you see the bottom?"

Even though the water was mainly clear, there was still some murkiness transcending from the surface. "No."

"Then it's deep enough."

My brow furrowed, glancing at him in confusion. "I'm not sure—"

Suddenly, and yet deliberately, Felix pushed me into the river. I let out a small yelp before I crashed into the clean water. I knew I should've been mad at Felix for getting me wet, but somehow—seeing the riverbank underwater made it all worthwhile.

Felix had been right, it was deep.

Small minnows swam away from me in fright, whereas a small crayfish approached me with measured curiosity. Mossy rocks covered the river bottom, with several miniature organisms hiding in them.

I kicked off the ground of the river to reach the surface. Felix stood there with a wild grin, almost like he thought he had gotten the better of me. I quickly grabbed his legs and pulled him into the river with me.

I watched underwater as Felix realized what I had done, his eyes widening in shock. I began to laugh and kicked up to the surface so we could talk. Felix followed my example, and exclaimed, "Fishes aren't going to be much of a meal."  
My laughter picked up as I agreed, "This isn't much of a hunt—but whose fault is that?"

He rolled his eyes and admitted, "Mine."

* * *

"That's Orion's belt right there." I said pointing at the strip of stars.

Felix smiled looking at me before glancing at the constellation.

"What is that cluster?" He asked pointing at the sky.

"That's the little dipper," I smiled, "And that over there is the big dipper."

"And that one?" he smiled shifting closer to me.

I smiled as I looked up at the constellations. Felix taught me Italian and I was teaching him the stars.

"Andromeda," I sighed happily, "In Greek mythology, Andromeda was a princess in a North African city. Her mother Cassiopeia boasted that her daughter was more beautiful than the Nereids, the nymph-daughters of the sea god Nereus. To punish the queen for her arrogance, Poseidon, brother to Zeus and god of the sea, sent a sea monster named Cetus to ravage the coast of Aethiopia including the kingdom of the vain queen. She was chained to a rock naked."

I pointed to the numerous constellations that went with the story.

"Perseus was returning from having slain the Gorgon Medusa. After he happened upon the chained Andromeda, he approached Cetus while invisible from Hades's helm. He killed the sea monster and set Andromeda free. He then married her."

In the middle of nowhere Felix stood up. He seemed impossibly larger from the ground.

I sat up in confusion. "What are you doing?"

He sighed lightly, gazing down at me lovingly. I had never seen the emotion of love so prominent in his eyes. See, Felix always had this wall around him—he hardly ever showed emotion and took fun in shutting people out. I was elated he was finally letting me in.

"I love you, Addison Jane," he said.

I opened my mouth to respond, but Felix kept going "I know I wasn't what you were expecting in someone. I know you . . . deserve better—deserve more than what I am. But—"

I cut him off, "Don't put yourself down! You're the best thing that's ever happened to me!" I immediately stood up and wrapped my arms around him in a loose hug.

"You didn't let me finish," he mumbled.

"Okay," I whispered. "Then finish."

"_But_," he continued. "I might not be the best thing for you, but you're the best thing for me. God, I—" Felix pulled away from me and put his hands up to his face. "I can't even describe how I feel for you. I just—I love you so much. I adore you. And . ." he trailed off, the look of irritation clearing from his eyes as he got down on one knee.

My eyes widened as he held up the most beautiful engagement ring I'd just about ever seen.

"Will you marry me?" Felix asked gruffly.

My mouth fell open in shock. I didn't know exactly _why_ I was so surprised—I knew this was coming. Venomous tears stirred in my eyes—I wanted so badly to shed them, to show Felix just how happy I was.

"Well?" Felix demanded, his tone turning a bit harsher as he prepared himself for rejection.

"Yes! Yes, I'll marry you!" I squealed, launching myself into his arms.

Felix's own arms instinctively wrapped around me, holding me close. I felt his chest vibrate in choked laughter. "I should probably put the ring on now."

"Oh," I realized, reluctantly stepping backwards.

Felix quickly slipped the large-stoned engagement ring on me.

"Wow," I mumbled. "It fits perfectly."


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter seventeen

We eloped—if you could even call it that.

The wedding ceremony consisted of me, Felix, and the town priest. The priest said we needed witnesses to watch the ceremony, but one glare from Felix was enough to shut him up.

The ceremony was short and right to the point. Since there were no witnesses, no friends, no family to see our wedding—there was no reason to have a reception, or to _really_ have a long ceremony.

We said our vows in Italian, quickly and lovingly. And then it was over.

Honestly, I didn't mind that it was all so quick. Some girls spent their entire lives dreaming of their wedding in precise detail. Felix and I just wanted to get it over with.

I didn't even get a proper wedding dress. Because . . . what was the point? I was only going to wear it once for a quick ceremony. Why waste hundreds of dollars?

The priest handed us our marriage certificate, and said a curt, "Goodbye and good luck." He rushed out of the room, his heart beating impossibly fast out of, what I thought was, fear.

I frowned, turning to my husband. "You know, you didn't have to scare him like that."

Felix feigned a look of innocence. "Scare him? Addison Jane! I would never!"

I rolled my eyes. "Bushwa."

He smirked, his eyes dancing in pure elation. "Besides, I'm more interested in our wedding night."

"Our honey moon," I clarified.

Felix shrugged. "Staying in the same house, in the same town, doesn't really make it a honeymoon."

"Sure it does!" I insisted, and then hesitated, "Besides, our honeymoon won't be any different than any other night we spend together."

Felix's grin only broadened. "And how's that?"

I smacked his shoulder playfully. "Shut your mouth, honey. We should get going—savor the mood, you know."

He offered me a heartfelt wink. "The mood isn't the only thing I'll be savoring."

I gasped before erupting into laughter. "You're a pig!"

Felix smiled lazily. "Yes, Addison, but I'm _your_ pig."

My heart soared.

"Come, now, husband," I said. "Let's go savor each other together."

I let the years slip by without really meaning to. Time used to bother me so much—change, too. But with Felix around me it all didn't seem so bad. Weeks faded into months and months into years as we lived in our exotic bliss.

We had no worries, which was . . . nice, but weird. Usually something always went wrong between us, based on how Felix and I were complete opposites. Plus, the fact that Felix had a really bad temper contributed to our past relationship problems.

But in those years? In the time after our wedding? There were no fights, there was no pain, no sorrow. It was _happy_.

Eventually it was time for us to meet up with Carlisle and Esme in Rochester New York. Though, neither Felix nor I wanted to go. Don't get me wrong, I did miss my family, but I didn't want to leave Garwin. It felt like if I left behind Garwin, Felix and I's happy relationship would, too, disperse.

"Frankly, I think we should leave the Cullen coven behind," Felix said, following me around the house as I packed up my clothes.

"The Cullen's aren't a coven," I told him quietly, putting my pearls into a jewelry case Edward had gotten me oh so long ago. Just thinking of Edward sent a small pang through my black heart. "They're a family—we're a family."

"Addison . . ." his voice sounded near desperation. Felix lightly turned me around to face him. "Look at the bigger picture. You don't need the Cullen's anymore—you have me."

"I know," I whispered, gazing into his yellow eyes. Felix could be so dense sometimes. I didn't understand it! He was older than dirt—quite literally—and wiser than any wise man. So why was it Felix acted idiotic?

"So what? Tell me why you want to leave Garwin. Give me one good reason! No! Not even a good reason! Just give me _one_ reason at all." He was pleading with me, his eyes shining with misery.

"Because!" I cried, turning back around to my jewelry. I couldn't look at him anymore—I couldn't see the look in his eyes. "I may not need the Cullen's, but they need me."

"God!" I heard him scream, followed by a large smash of something being broken. "I'm trying really hard not to fight with you, but—God! I can't even stand to look at you right now."

My hands trembled as I folded up more of my necklaces.

I listened to Felix storm out of the room and I thought he had left the house, to maybe go into the woods or something, but then I heard a loud, guttural roar. I heard dozens of smashing sounds coming from the foyer. I was guessing Felix was ripping the walls out. Or maybe he had taken to smashing our car to pieces, thinking it would keep me from leaving.

I didn't try to stop Felix. After all, if I did, he'd only hurt me, which would cause him to hate himself even more. Felix didn't have control of himself when he was like this.

I liked to think, metaphorically, that vampires had demons inside of them. Sometimes we pushed the demon side of us down and we had control—we could live in our happy, human states. But that's the thing with pushing things down, it's going to eventually come up all at once.

I kept packing, working through my sobs and Felix's tantrum.

Was this all worth it? Was going to live with Esme and Carlisle worth the fighting? Was it worth the pain?

The house turned silent all of a sudden. I put down my jewelry box and exited the room to find Felix. Maybe he's calmed down by now, I reasoned.

As I stepped into our living room, I froze. It wasn't because the entire room was demolished, after all, I had suspected that. It was because there were three other people in our house—three vampires.

Felix blocked my view with his large body, so I couldn't tell what the vampires looked like. But I saw the black capes, the trademark symbol for the Volturi. My eyes widened and I wondered why I hadn't been able to smell them before entry.

"You had such a lovely wedding," an obviously female voice said. She sounded like a little girl—her words were so high pitch. "Short," she commented. "But lovely all the same."

"It sure was insulting to not get an invitation," a boy sighed.

"We didn't invite anyone," Felix growled.

I quickly walked over to Felix and took his hand in mine. I wanted the vampires to know, if it came to a fight, that I stood with Felix.

"Oh, look!" the girl crooned. "It's your bride!"

Now that I was in view, I could see the girl. Her hair was a long, shimmery blonde and she looked maybe twelve or thirteen. The girl was shorter than me and appeared weak. She looked sweet, really. Kind. The entire image was ruined by her ruby red eyes.

"Stay away from her!" Felix snarled, stepping in front of me.

The girl laughed loudly. "With pleasure."

And then Felix was on the ground, screaming. His cries of agony were new to me. I had never seen him in pain before.

"No!" I cried, sinking to the ground beside him. I tried to open up his fist so I could hold his hand. I wanted him to know that I was there. Felix's hand wouldn't open, it was clenched too tightly, trying to harness the obvious pain he felt.

Why was this happening? No one was attacking him! This was impossible.

My eyes widened as I stared up at the little girl. Her eyes were narrowed in slight concentration as she focused on Felix. I didn't know what she was doing, or how she was doing it, but she was hurting Felix.

"You did this!" I roared, standing up to the girl.

Someone crashed into me and pinned me against the wall by my neck. I gagged at the sudden rush of pain that flared through me.

"Hey, sweetheart," Demetri crooned. "It's been awhile."

A choked sob ran through my body. "Why?" I gasped. "Why are you doing this?"

The boy standing beside the girl, that was torturing my husband, spoke up, "We want Felix back."

I could hardly hear him over Felix's screams.

Demetri pushed me up, higher against the wall. I struggled uselessly, trying to free myself. "You took him from us," Demetri informed me. "He was good in our guard."

The girl looked away from Felix and onto me, causing Felix to gasp suddenly and stop his thrashing. "The only way to get him back, is to kill you," she said this simply, like it was the easiest thing in the world.

"No!" I pleaded. "Please! No!"

The girl shrugged. "Love makes you weak."

Felix stood up from the ground and rushed to my side, only to fall to the ground, screaming once more.

The boy sighed in aggravation. "Will he ever learn?"

Demetri's left eye twitched in anticipation. "Can I kill her now?"

"Not yet," the boy responded. "We need to let Felix watch her die."

"He'll never join your guard!" I taunted. I had given up on begging for my life, seeming on how they had no mercy. "You'll have to kill him."

Demetri laughed. "We'll see. We've known him a lot longer than you have."

"He's a creature of habit," the girl added, suddenly ending Felix's torture.

Black mist surrounded the entire room, coming from the boy. He smirked, mirth dancing in his eyes as he knew the Volturi were going to win. They always won.

Felix pushed himself off the ground, glaring at the girl. "Jane," he snapped. "That wasn't necessary."

Jane. Like my middle name?

I remembered back when I had told Felix my whole name, and he said he knew someone named Jane.

This was her? This was the infamous Jane? Some little girl that liked to torture?

"Felix," I sobbed quietly.

He immediately turned to look my way, his eyes widening when he saw Demetri's hand on my neck—reading to tear my head off. "Let her go!" Felix ordered hotly, moving towards my direction.

"Don't move another muscle," the boy warned. "I really don't want to immobilize you, but I will if I have to."

Felix glared at him. "What are you doing? _Why_ are you doing this? Aro said it was alright for me to leave the Volturi."

"Yes," Jane intercepted. "But Caius wants you back."

"Caius," Felix snorted. "Aro is your master, Jane. You obey his orders."

"We aren't here to argue!" the boy hissed.

Felix began talking in rapid Italian, gesturing wildly. I tried to keep up, really, I did. But Felix was fluent and I was still learning the base units for the language. Out of his entire speech, the only words I managed to translate were "stupid", "Italy", "murder", and "betrayal". He also said mine and Aro's name a couple of times, but that hardly counted as a translation.

When he was done, the Volturi guards only laughed. Even Demetri was chortling, his hands shaking slightly as he kept me against the wall.

"This would hardly count as a betrayal to the Volturi, _Felix_," Jane spat his name out.

The boy nodded and explained, "Aro misses you, even Marcus."

"You're an original!" Demetri added bitterly.

"Aro gave me his word!" Felix roared. "He said I could be with her. No strings attached."

"Too bad, so sad," Jane giggled. "You should know by now that Aro's word doesn't mean much."

Demetri sighed loudly. "You've made a mess of things, Felix," he told him. "As you tend to do."

Felix groaned, his entire face crumbling in sadness. "So what are you going to do to her?"

Jane glanced at me in slight interest. "Why . . . kill her, of course."

Felix stared at me, and I stared back longingly.

I'd be honored to die for him.

"No," Felix's eyes widened in horror. He begged, "No, please. Please, keep her alive. I'll go willingly. I'll do whatever you say. Just keep her alive. Don't kill her."

Jane rolled her eyes. "Oh, shut up. You sound pathetic."

"Besides," the boy added, "I'll cut her senses. She won't feel a thing."

"No, no, no, I'm begging you. I'm nothing without her." Felix's voice was nothing but a harsh whisper, desperate to be heard.

The boy sighed. "Maybe we shouldn't kill her. Aro doesn't like unnecessary deaths."

Jane's eyes widened as she faced the boy. "Alec, we must take precautions. As long as she's alive, Felix will never—"

"No," Felix interrupted. "I'll never see her again. I'll leave her alone as long as you keep your part of the bargain."

Jane deliberated for a few seconds before nodding. "Alright . . . I suppose." She glanced at Demetri. "Put her down."

I immediately fell to the ground, Demetri walking away from me and over to Alec and Jane.

"Come on now," Demetri said, kicking Felix lightly. "We should get going."

Jane nodded and looked towards Alec. "Brother, you know what to do. Make sure she can't follow us."

"Ti amo," Felix told me.

I opened my mouth to respond, but the black mist latched itself onto me and I couldn't see where Felix had gone. I couldn't smell. I couldn't hear anything, not even the silence.

Everything was just gone.


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter eighteen

I woke up alone in a broken house. It was a weird sensation—waking up. After all, I hadn't slept in fifty years. Honestly, I didn't know if you could call what I just experienced sleeping. There were no dreams. There were no nightmares. There was only darkness.

"Felix?" I called out uncertainly. He wasn't usually this quiet. "Fel—" I paused halfway through his name as memories came rushing back to me.

"No!" I declared, scrambling up from the ground. I ran to every room in our small house, searching for my husband. "No, no, no, no!" My voice became more and more desperate as I realized Felix wasn't here.

I ran back to our den, my head whipping back and forth frantically. Finally, I sunk to the ground, collapsing in sobs. My fingers clawed the wooden floorboard as I tried to hang onto something—anything to keep me from falling into oblivion.

"Felix," I cried, rocking myself back and forth.

I guess I knew, in the part of me that was still sane, that I was acting illogical. After all, crying my beloveds name wouldn't help my cause. If anything, it made it worse.

But it didn't matter, nothing really did. The Volturi had gone back on their word and taken Felix back. Everyone knew that the Volturi always kept what was theirs.

It would be noble for me to go after Felix. Storm to Italy with a roaring passion, demanding that the Volturi release him immediately. Yes, it was noble, but stupid. I stood no chance against the Volturi and would most certainly die.

So I lied there on the floor, weeping tearless weeps and calling out for someone that would never respond. I stayed in one position, staring angrily at one panel of wood on the ground. Every movement seemed to only make things worse, increase the heartbreak.

I suddenly wished the Volturi boy, Alec, was here. He had that strange gift of making people unable to feel things. I wanted that—to be numb. Oh, that would be so much better than this.

Why had they taken him? Why now? Jane had even said that they watched our wedding. Why hadn't they taken him before our wedding? Instead, they waited years to come for him? What was the point? Was there something bigger going on here?

I cried louder, holding my arms around my body.

He'd come back, right?

He always did.

Yes, he'd come back.

I had to believe that.

Eventually there was a knock on what remained of my front door. Despite everything that had just happened, I ran to the door, hoping it was Felix. I could even hear a heartbeat and smell blood, but it didn't matter. I had to check to see if Felix was there.

I opened the door.

He wasn't there.

My eyes widened and suddenly a thousand pounds dropped on top of me, making it hard to stand.

A woman stood on the other side of the door with a man by her side. I recognized the woman from town. I think she owned a floral shop or something. The man was probably her husband. I didn't know either of their names.

"Are you alright?" the woman gasped. "Our house is right down the bock," she turned and pointed, "And we heard screaming. What's going on?"

They both stared at me expectantly, no doubt wanting some gossip.

I didn't respond, instead turning on my heel and walking back into my home. I collapsed onto the ground, the weight of the world finally catching up with me. I had once read somewhere that it was important to share your feelings with others, and believe me, I wanted to, but I doubted these people would ever come close to understanding my sorrow.

The couple followed me inside and gasped as they saw the interior wreckage. "What happened here?" the man exclaimed wildly.

"You're married, aren't you?" asked the woman. "Where's your husband?"

I looked at her in the eyes and said, "Gone."

The woman turned away from me and walked over to her counterpart, gesturing towards the corner. No doubt thinking I couldn't hear them, the woman said, "What should we do, Andrew?"

He sighed. "We should take her to the sheriff's station. He'll know what to do."

She whispered, "What do you think happened here? Do you think she killed him?"

"Killed him? No. I saw that lady's husband once or twice—no way could she take him. He's built like an ox."

"Then what happened? Where is he?"

Andrew sighed again, no doubt flustered by his wife's ignorance. "That's why we've got to take her to the sheriff. He'll know what to do."

The woman hesitated for a moment before nodding. "Alright."

They walked over to me, smiling slightly, like they were trying not to scare me or something.

"What are you doing?" I demanded.

"We're going to help you," the woman explained. "But you need to cooperate."

How was arresting me going to help my cause? I just wanted to be alone. I didn't feel like going to prison, but I also didn't feel like snapping their necks. I knew I could run away, it'd be easy, but I didn't want to leave Garwin—not yet, anyway.

So I said, "Cooperate how? What are you doing?"

Andrew deliberated as he thought deeply of how to word his thoughts. Finally, he replied, "We're taking you to someone who's going to help."

Prison was kind of homey—one of the perks of living in a small town. There were only two prison cells stuffed into one, small jailhouse. In some ways, it could be considered pathetic.

The sheriff, a stout man named Leo, had thrown me into one of the cells without hearing the full story from Andrew and his wife.

"You can't do this," I told him. "I have rights."

Leo ignored me and gestured for the couple to tell them why they had brought me here.

"Well," Andrew started, "Gale and I had just finished dinner when we heard shouting coming from down the block. Normally we wouldn't interfere, we believe people deserve their privacy."

"But then!" Gale, Andrew's wife, continued, "We started hearing some smashing sounds. And I thought to myself, 'Oy, it must be pretty bad over there if we're hearing these noises all the way from our house'!"

"So we decided to go check it out," Andrew nodded. "We wanted to make sure everything was okay. We didn't know this woman or her husband very well—in fact, even for a town this small, I don't know their names, but we have common courtesy."

"It took us around ten minutes to drive there," said Gale with a small shrug. "Our automobile was having some problems."

Andrew shook his head angrily. "Ford ought to call back these cars, I tell you! They've been nothing but problems."

"Anyway," Gale shot a small glare in her husband's direction. "When we finally arrived, we knocked, and this woman right here answered."

"She looked unkempt," Andrew added unnecessarily, if only to make me feel bad. "Extremely out of reality."

Gale's eyes widened, remembering the occurrence that happened a few minutes prior. She told Leo, "I knew she had a husband, even for being so young. How old is she?" Gale started at me in scrutiny. "Fourteen? Fifteen?"

Andrew nodded in agreement. "I knew she was married, too. As a said before it's a small town and it was quite the big deal when two new residents arrived."

Leo sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose in annoyance. "Why did you bring her to me? What happened?"

"Well . . ." Gale trailed off sheepishly. "That's just it, sheriff. We don't know what happened. We were hoping you could tell us."

"_I_ could tell you?" Leo barked. "I wasn't there! How am I supposed to know?"

Andrew moved a little closer to the man, whispering, "We think she killed him."

"Killed who?" Leo demanded loudly. I think he wanted me to hear him, wanted me to feel bad. "Her husband?"

Gale and Andrew both nodded.

Leo sighed again. "Alright. Get out of here. I'll handle it."

The couple exchanged a glance before nodding and scurrying out of the building. I was hoping they'd keep quiet about this whole matter, following their own belief of "people deserve their privacy", but I doubted that was going to happen. People like them had nothing better to do than gossip.

The sheriff glared at me. "What's your name?"

I smiled. "You mean you don't know already?"

"What's your name?" he repeated.

"Addison."

Leo's face contorted into a mask of amusement. "Addison? Isn't that a boy's name?"

I was instantly defensive. I had heard this remark many times before and it annoyed me to no end. "No! No it's not! Addison is a unisex name! It's for boys and girls!"

Leo grinned as his eyes looked me over. "You're a pretty little thing, aren't you?"

"I like to think so."

His grin intensified in width. "How is it that you have a husband? You're only a child."

I raised one shoulder in an attempt for a lazy shrug. "I'm older than I look."

Leo laughed. "Sure."

We sat for a brief moment in silence before the sheriff glanced at my hand and gasped slightly, exclaiming, "Is that your wedding ring?"

I looked down at the ring on my finger, painful images flashing through my mind.

The ring had one silver band latching onto a gorgeous stone—diamond. It was very large, I suppose, although I had nothing to compare it to. If I were to see the average size and look of a normal wedding band, I'd be able to tell if my ring was special.

I moaned quietly before responding, "Yes. It's my . . . ring."

Leo whistled lowly. "Damn, your husband must have been loaded."

I set my jaw in anger. Leo mentioning Felix was causing sharp pains to erupt inside my chest—I think it was coming from my heart.

"Can you please not talk about Felix?" I asked.

Leo shrugged. "Your late husband is going to come up sooner or later. Judging on how—"

"Please," I murmured. "Stop."

Leo rolled his eyes, but complied with my request. There must have been something desperate shining in my eyes for him to have some decency.

He walked over to his desk and opened up a melena folder. Leo looked up from his work and wondered, "So are you going to make this easy on yourself and confess?"

"Confess?" I knew that Gale and Andrew had a slight suspicion that I killed Felix, but they hadn't been completely serious when they pitched the idea to Leo. "I didn't do anything wrong."

"In my book, murder is wrong."

"I didn't kill anyone," I insisted.

"I don't believe you," Leo admitted with an exhale of exhaustion. "I was hoping you were going to cooperate. The more you cooperate, the more simple my job is. I've had a long night, Addison. I'm tired and I want to go home."

"You can try interrogating me tomorrow?" I offered.

"No. I have this . . ." he hesitated, trying to find the right word. "Intuition, I guess.

"Intuition of what?"

Leo frowned. "That you're more dangerous than you look."

"Well, I'm a murderer, aren't I?" I asked.

"It's a real weird intuition, Addison—almost like you're something more dangerous than a murderer."

Leo had very pretty green eyes. They looked jade almost, like the wallpaper I had in my bedroom when I was a human. Though, in the moment of his strange accusation, his jade eyes were narrowed in fear.

"Oh, sheriff," I scolded. "Nothing's more dangerous than a murderer."

"So then that's what you must be—a killer." He sounded matter-of-fact.

I shrugged and said, "Something like that."

Leo went home around one a.m., telling me that my answers to his questions were cryptic and arrogant.

I only smiled at him. "Whatever you say, sheriff."

Leo didn't respond, only turned the lights of the police station off, therefore leaving me in nothing but darkness.

When I was alive I had a fear of the dark, I remembered this fact sadly. Seeing ghosts had given me this strange illusion that they could somehow hurt me. After all, sometimes the spirits would get angry with me—slightly violent. They'd threaten me and let go a stream of cusswords that I didn't even understand.

Every time my mother would move to blow the candle out before bed I'd cry. My mother always tried to soothe and calm me down. She relentlessly wiped away my tears for years on end. My mother never asked why I cried, she only held me in her arms.

Finally, when I was older, she said, "Please, don't do this to yourself, Addison. Problems are fixed with hard work and not tears."

I admitted with a sob, "I can't! I can't stop crying! I'm so scared."

"Scared of what, child?"

"The dark," I whispered, glancing around. I felt like if the ghosts heard me say the word 'dark' they'd come after me. It was almost as if the word 'dark' was evil or something. Though, what did I know? I was a little girl at the time.

"The dark!" my mother scoffed. "Now, that's a silly thing to be afraid of."

I shook my head, trembling as I held back my whimpers.

She moved my hair out of my face and told me, "Do you think there are monsters? Is that why you're afraid?"

Ghosts hardly counted as monsters . . . right? They were people once, like my mother and I. Their hearts used to beat and they loved their family as I loved mine. Sure, sometimes they got mad and would be mean, but doesn't everyone lose their temper once in awhile?

Thinking about it, though, I realized the ghosts _were _acting like monsters to me. Harassing a little girl during the day and giving her nightmares at night was not humane. They were alive once, but they weren't anymore.

"Yes, mother," I responded.

"So," she mused, tilting her head back as she feigned concentration. "You aren't afraid of the dark, then? You're afraid of the monsters that hide in the dark?"

"Yes, mother."

My mother stared me right in the eye and said, "Monsters don't exist. You cannot fear what isn't real."

"But—" I protested.

"But nothing," she said sharply, giving me a hard stare. "Addison, you better learn this and you better learn this young—monsters exist in our heads, but nowhere else."

I wanted to tell her how ignorant she was being in that moment. My mother couldn't _really_ know if monsters existed. She had never even left America! She hadn't seen the world—tested if monsters were out there.

But, instead, I nodded like the good little girl I was. "Yes, mother."

"Goodnight," she responded before she blew the candle out.

Needless to say, I wasn't exactly afraid of the dark anymore. Then again, my mother had been wrong. There were monsters out there—vampires, at least.

I wasn't exactly sure if I counted as a monster. I had killed someone, after all. Though, putting it into perspective, I realized other vampires had done so much more worse than I had.

Look at Jane for example. She was younger than I was when she had been changed. Jane probably didn't understand who she was or what she was capable of before Aro manipulated her to do his bidding.

And Demetri? God, I didn't know his story and I never wanted to. That creep was lucky enough to have a gift—the gift to be able to find people. I wondered how long he had been following Felix and me around. I also wondered how many people had been killed due to his gift. How many people had he led the Volturi to?

Monsters did exist. Maybe not all vampires were monsters, but the Volturi definitely was.

I rubbed my hands against the smooth surface of the cement prison floor.

Being alone was horrible. All I could think about was the Volturi taking Felix and how he was gone forever.

I couldn't stop thinking about how many fights the Volturi got into. I knew my husband could take care of himself and that I shouldn't worry. Honestly, he was probably safer with the Volturi than he was with me.

I suppose I enjoyed torturing myself.

Although I didn't particularly like Leo, I wished he was with me if only to distract me from the dark thoughts I had.

"_Ti amo."_

I wondered—were those the last words I'd ever hear from Felix? They weren't a bad set of last words—I love you in Italian was sweet actually.

I put my head in my hands as I sobbed.

"Late husband" Leo had called Felix. Was he dead? Could the Volturi have spared my feelings of killing Felix in front of me, only to kill him in Italy? How cruel could Aro get?

Smile slipping, I realized I'd only get to see Felix in my memories.

Was that really so bad? I'd still be able to see him. In fact it would be like he had never even left.

It wouldn't be real, I reasoned.

But so what?

I missed him. I missed how careful he was when he held me. I missed his yellow eyes. I missed his altogether largeness. I missed everything about him and it hadn't even been a day since he left.

I closed my eyes as I remembered Felix.

He was so much bigger than me, much stronger. When we first moved to Garwin, I purposefully made the doorways too small for him so that he'd always have to duck before going to the next room. Felix was slightly mad, but got over it quickly. The doorways became an inside joke between the two of us.

"You're a vampire," Felix used to say, "but yet so breakable."

I would smile. "That's a contradiction.

He'd shrug. "You know I could break you—without even thinking about it."

"But you never will."

Felix had nodded. "I hurt you once, Addison—back in the woods on the way to Columbus. I'm never going to hurt you again."

"Never is a long time," I warned. "It's almost as long as forever."

"I know, but I still won't hurt you."

It was weird, to realize someone you'd known for such a long time was going to be nothing but a memory.

Morning came slowly and through the police station's window. The sun rose steadily and rested over a thick cloud cover. I gingerly moved away from the stream of natural light that flooded into my cell.

Thirty minutes after sunrise Leo stormed into the police station, threw the lights on, and walked over to my cell in two quick strides. "Vibes!" he announced.

"Vibes?" I questioned.

He nodded eagerly. "I've been thinking about this all night—and it's the vibes."

"Vibes?" I repeated, even more doubtfully than before.

"Don't be petty," Leo scolded. "Hear me out."

"Sure."

"Everyone gives off vibes," he continued. "And your vibes are noticeably darker than anyone else's."

"So?" I demanded. "You sound mad."

Leo shrugged. "Maybe I am, maybe I'm not, but you need to realize I'm not the only one that has these vibes around you."

"I'd hardly consider dark vibes sustainable in court."

Leo shot me a glare. "Don't be smart with me, kid. You'll regret it."

I could only watch as the sheriff walked into his office and shut the door firmly, grumbling about my ignorance.

"What are you going to do?" a familiar voice asked from behind me.

I jumped in slight surprise, turning to declare, "Pastor Cullen! What are you doing here?"

He smiled kindly. "I go where I'm needed."

I snorted. "No offense, but I don't really need you. I can get out of here if I wanted to."

"You _want_ to be in jail?"

"I wouldn't expect for you to understand."

He stared at me frostily. "I understand that your husband is gone for the time being and you're scared, but—"

"Gone for the time being?" I sneered and then hesitated under the weight of my sadness. "No, Pastor Cullen. Felix is gone for good."

"No," my friend's eyes widened. "He's not—"

"Just leave me alone," I intervened, turning away from him. "I want silence. For once, I just want silence."

Pastor Cullen moved beside me. "Silence? With your gift it'll never be quiet, child. You should know this by now."

"Are you trying to make me feel worse?"

He sighed at my insolence. "No, I'm trying to tell you that—"

"I don't care what you have to say!" I cried in a hushed whisper. "I seldom do."

"You don't mean that. You're just upset."

"No." I set my jaw. "I mean it. Leave me alone."

Pastor Cullen started at me sadly. "Alright."

And then he, too, was gone.


End file.
